When It Becomes Hard To Do
by No more darkness
Summary: Shawn suddenly finds himself with real psychic powers, but they're not all that they're cracked up to be. And when he finds that he can't deal with his work anymore will he be able to come back long enough to save a small girl. No shippings. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Diclaimer: If I owned Psych then I'd be the happiest sub-human species on the planet.

Shawn was bored. It didn't matter that it was only eleven A.M. and that he had only been awake for the grand total of thirty-seven minutes. He. Was. Bored. And what was worse was that he couldn't call Gus because his friend had turned off the ringer on his cell. Besides, Shawn was going to meet with him in their office in about an hour and a half anyway. But still, that left Shawn with ninety minutes of free time on his hands. So he did what any self-respecting-bored-out-of-his-skull-fake-psychic would do. He went into his kitchen and started to slice up the pineapple that he had bought the other day.

Shawn was about half-way through cutting his pineapple up into eatable-sized chunks, when there was a sudden flash of light and a faint pop, which resulted in Shawn standing in a dark kitchen. Now the only light coming in, was through a blinded window. Shawn sighed. Great, the lightbulb had burnt out. Now he would have to replace it.

For a moment Shawn debated on whether he should replace the lightbulb now, or if he should do it later. He wanted to do it later. I mean come on, it was such a boring and menial task. But Shawn also new that if he didn't change the light now, then he would forget to and that wouldn't be conducive to his late-night smoothie snack time. He'd tried to make smoothies in the dark once and had received some interesting results.

So, with a sigh, Shawn went over to a drawer by the sink, opened it and pulled out a new lightbulb. Then he dragged a chair away from his table and placed it right under the light fixture. He climbed up onto the chair and unscrewed the old lightbulb. Then aiming carefully, because he didn't feel like getting off the chair, Shawn tossed the lightbulb at the garbage can. He missed and glass shattered everywhere.

Great, now he would have to clean up too. Changing the lightbulb was starting to not seem worth it. He could live with another peanut butter, mango, and pickle smoothie. Actually it hadn't been all that bad. It was mostly the cleanup that had made Shawn decide to never make smoothies in the dark again. Oh well, since he was up there anyways, he might as well finish changing the light.

So Shawn turned back to his work. He had just started to screw the new light into the fixture when a sharp jolt of electricity shot through him. Then the next thing he knew, his head hurt and then there was only darkness as he slipped into unconsciousness.

A/N: Well that's the first chapter. I hope to have the second chapter up soon. And I know that this was short, but it was important, and a good set up for the rest of the story. Please review and no flames. If you don't like what I have written so far I don't need to know.

:D


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Here's chapter two. It's a bit longer than chapter one, so I hope you enjoy it.

The first thing that Shawn was aware of, as he came to, was a dull throbbing in the back of his skull. Then he was suddenly aware of an annoying light shining in his eyes. Shawn opened his eyes and then he quickly squeezed them back shut and covered them with his left hand. After a moment he tried opening his eyes again, only more slowly this time. Once his eyes had adjusted, he realized that he was staring a bare lightbulb.

Confused, Shawn looked around him and realized that he was laying flat on his back, on the floor of his kitchen. Then he remembered what had happened. He had been changing the lightbulb when he had been shocked. And seeing as he was lying on the ground, he came to the pretty solid conclusion that he had fallen down.

And had hit his head. He thought, as he pinpointed the source of his headache to a goose-egg that was forming just above his right ear.

Shawn sat up, but he had done so too quickly and the room pitched forward and started to spin. Quickly he gripped the edge of the table (probably where he had hit his head) to steady himself. Once the spinning had stopped, Shawn stood up. Slowly.

Once standing, it occurred to him that he should probably go to the hospital. But Shawn quickly dismissed that thought. He didn't seem to be bleeding and he had woken up. That must mean that there wasn't anything to wrong with him. At least nothing dire.

Then it occurred to him. He didn't know how long he had been asleep. For all he knew he could have been asleep for four days! Although it was kind of depressing to think that he could have disappeared for that long of a time and have no one come looking for him yet.

Shawn looked over at the clock on his oven. 3:07. Whoops. Four days or not, he was late for his meeting with Gus.

Shawn moved to leave when he caught sight of the broken lightbulb by the trash can and that, somehow, reminded him of the half-cut pineapple on the counter. He thought a moment, and then shrugged. Well if he was already late...

Shawn went over to the counter and finished cutting up his pineapple. And then he tossed a few pieces into his mouth before he grabbed a broom and dustpan and swept up the shards of glass.

It was 3:42 by the time Shawn left to go and meet Gus.

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He was late! Shawn'd been late before, but never by such a large margin of time. Usually he'd call.

Gus paced around the office of his and his best friend's fake psychic detective agency Psych. At the moment he was torn between worry and anger. If something had happened to Shawn, he would feel really bad about not trying to find and help his friend. But if he was just late, and there was no good excuse, he was going to kill him.

Suddenly Gus heard the front door open and he ran out of the room to see Shawn coming in, finishing off some sort of pastry. He exploded.

"Shawn," he yelled, "where the heck have you been? I've been waiting for–"

"Days," Shawn interrupted, although it sounded more like a question than a suggestion.

Gus glared at his friend. "No," he snapped. "Shawn, if you're going to be three and a half hours late to a get-together that you _begged_ me to agree to, you should at least have the decency to call and tell me."

"I didn't beg," Shawn said in his annoyingly calm tone, "and you've been really busy lately with your. . .stuff. I just wanted to hang out."

"Then why where you late?" Gus asked, trying to control his tone.

Shawn thought a moment before answering, "I fell asleep."

Gus's eye twitched, but he was able to restrain himself from tackling his irresponsible friend.

Shawn opened his mouth to say something else, when his cell phone started to ring. Holding up a finger, to indicate silence, he opened up his phone.

"Hello?" Shawn said.

Gus sighed and didn't even bother to try and listen to Shawn's side of the conversation. It never told him much and it often left him confused when Shawn refused to tell him what the call was about.

So Gus waited patiently for Shawn to get off the phone. And as he waited, he went over in his head what it was that he was going to say to Shawn when he had his attention again.

The sound of the cell phone snapping shut, brought Gus out of his thoughts. But he didn't even have time to restart on Shawn, when he interrupted him saying,

"That was Jules. We're needed at a crime scene. Let's go." And not even waiting for a response from Gus, Shawn headed outside and over to Gus's car.

It took a moment for Gus to respond, but when he could, he sprinted outside to catch up with Shawn.

"So where are we going?" Gus asked as he slid into the drivers seat.

Shawn gave him the address as he slid into the passenger seat.

The drive to their destination was going to be, roughly, about thirty minutes. It would be the perfect time to give Shawn a lecture on being responsible. So Gus started to talk, but not five minutes into his speech did he realize that Shawn was ignoring him. But that didn't stop Gus from lecturing. Actually it fueled it into a rant, which he continued to rave until they reached the house.

Only once the two were out of the car and had started up the sidewalk, did it occur to Gus that Shawn had been uncommonly silent. He wasn't even waving at the policemen that they had come to know so well over the pass few months.

"Are you okay?" Gus asked his friend, keeping his voice low so that none of the cops that were in the yard could here.

"Huh?" Shawn looked at his friend, "uh yeah. I'm fine."

Gus wasn't to entirely convinced, but he decided not to say anything. If something was wrong then Shawn would tell him. In time.

"Hello," Buzz McNabb said cheerily as Gus and Shawn approached the front entrance of the small house.

"Hello," Gus said back.

"Hm," Shawn grunted and he briefly lifted his hand up, in greeting, in an offhanded or disheartened way.

Gus decided not comment on Shawn's less than cheery greeting and just followed him into the house. They had only taken one step inside when Gus felt Shawn suddenly tense up beside him and give a sharp gasp.

Gus turned to Shawn and found him standing with his back stiff and his eyes wide open in shock.

"Are you okay?" Gus asked, feeling very concerned for his friend.

"What?" Shawn asked. He seemed surprised by Gus's presence. "Oh, um..." Gus watched as Shawn slowly pulled himself together and forced his muscles to relax. "I'm fine," Shawn finally said. And he would have looked fine, except Gus could still see, hidden in the back of his eyes, that something was off.

"Come on," Shawn said and he led Gus through the hall and into the small living room where Detective Lassiter and Juliet were.

That's when they saw the body. It took all of the will power and strength that Gus possessed, to not run away and throw-up. This had to be one of the worse cases of manslaughter that Gus had ever had the misfortune of seeing the results of.

The man that laid on the floor had been brutally beaten. He wasn't much more that a mass of blood and bruises, wearing what used to be clothes.

Gus gulped and looked away.

"So Lassie, what's up?" Shawn asked, surprising Gus due to the lack of concern and care in his voice.

Gus could only stare at Shawn in utter shock, as he walked around the body and over to Lassiter and Juliet. He then draped and arm around each of their shoulders.

Lassiter glared and jerked his body away from Shawn, and Juliet rolled her eyes and shrugged Shawn's other arm off of her. Then Lassiter snapped at Shawn. Telling him to be serious or something like that.

Gus looked away. He didn't even bother to try and hear Shawn's comeback. He just couldn't believe his friend. He had to wonder if Shawn even cared. If he even cared that someone was lying in front of him, dead. That someone had been murdered in the most brutal and cruelest fashion.

Gus had always had troubles at crime scenes. He couldn't stand the gore. The sight of blood. The overpowering stench of it. The knowledge that someone was dead. Someone who had a family and loved one's and people who cared about them and would miss them terribly. And he couldn't stand that thought that another human did this. It just wasn't right. And Shawn didn't seem to care.

"Did you get any of that?" Shawn asked, coming over and standing next to Gus.

"No," he answered truthfully.

Shawn sighed and rolled his eyes. And then, in a quiet tone, he said to Gus, "okay then, let's see what I can pick up."

Gus didn't watch his friend as Shawn started scanning the room for clues. He couldn't make himself look anywhere but at the photographs that were on the wall. This man had children.

For a second time Gus felt Shawn stiffen beside him, but something was different this time. Shawn was shaking.

Gus wanted to look at Shawn, ask him if he was alright, but he was afraid that he would catch sight of the mangled body and have to leave the room right then. And it was hard enough to stay put as it was.

Shawn suddenly gasped. "Lassie look out!" He yelled.

Okay, Gus had to look. In fact, everyone looked. Everyone looked at Lassiter and saw... nothing. There was nothing to look out for.

Gus looked at Shawn to see his eyes wide with fright.

"Spencer what are you–"

Shawn didn't wait for Lassiter to finish his question. He turned on his heels and bolted right out of the house.

It took Gus a moment to register that Shawn had left, and when it had he went after him.

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**Okay now you're going to see the events through Shawn's perspective.**

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Shawn knew that he should probably tell Gus what had happened, but in all truthfulness, he was kind of embarrassed. I mean, who gets electrocuted while changing a lightbulb? That's why Juliet's call to come down to a crime scene had been such a relief. Shawn hadn't been sure how he would explain falling asleep so soon after waking up, because Shawn wasn't one of those people that slept a lot. In fact, he only slept when it became too hard to keep his eyes open.

Once Shawn and Gus were in the car, and had started off for the crime scene, Gus started in on Shawn. Telling him about the importance of being responsible or something like that. Shawn actually wasn't to sure of what his friend was talking about, because very soon after Gus had started driving, Shawn's headache had come back and he had shutout the sound of Gus's voice, because that seemed to be making it worse.

He had been only vaguely aware of the droning sound of his friend's voice. So when that had stopped, Shawn pulled himself back into reality and looked at Gus, expecting him to be glaring, because of the severe lack of attention that he was getting. But he wasn't even looking at Shawn. In fact, he was getting out of the car.

Had Shawn offended him that much? But then Shawn realized that they were there. They were at the crime scene. Quickly he got out of the car and went over to Gus, so that the two could head up the sidewalk together.

But the moment they started walking, Shawn started to space out again. He just felt. . . weird.

"Are you okay?" Shawn heard someone ask.

"Huh?" Shawn looked at Gus to see if he could indicate who was talking, and realized that it was Gus who had asked the question. "Uh yeah. I'm fine," Shawn said. He didn't really see any need to tell Gus about his headache. It's not like it was a big deal or anything.

As Shawn continued towards the front door of the small house his head started to swim and his brain was actually, and literally, starting to feel fuzzy.

Oh wait, Buzz just said something. But Shawn wasn't sure what, so he gave him a halfhearted greeting. Then he stepped inside the house.

The moment Shawn stepped over the threshold his head instantly cleared and he was overcome with the strangest sensation. He didn't like how it felt. It felt weird and different. It felt wrong.

"Are you okay?"

"What?" Shawn jumped slightly and looked over to see Gus. When had he gotten there? When had he left?

"Oh, um," Shawn saw the worry in his friend's eyes and quickly started to push the weird feeling away, and started to put up barriers in front of his eyes. And then he realized that he had tensed up (when had that happened?) so then he focused his brain power on loosening his muscles up. Once he was sure that he looked normal again he said, "I'm fine."

Shawn could see the doubt in Gus's eyes, but was thankful when he realized that Gus was going to keep his mouth shut.

"Come on," Shawn said. And he started down the hall.

For a moment the faint smell of blood reached Shawn's nose, but as soon as his brain registered the scent, his sense of smell instantly shut off. That was something that Shawn had trained himself to do and now he didn't even have to think about it. It was a reflex.

Shawn led Gus straight into the living room. Never mind that he had never been in the house before and didn't know where the living room would be. In fact, never mind that he hadn't even been told what room the murder had taken place in. And you know what? Never mind that Shawn could have sworn that he felt some disembodied hand grab his shoulder and steer him into the room. Just, never mind.

When he and Gus entered the room, he saw Juliet and Lassie. And then he saw the body. Shawn immediately distanced himself. He let the locks in his mind close, and the doors to his emotions shut. Distancing himself was a reflex, like shutting off his sense of smell. He didn't even have to think about doing it. It just happened. In fact, he had never even really given it much thought. For him, distancing oneself from something like this was natural and easy.

"So Lassie, what's up?" Shawn called out. He wasn't going to get any information just by gawking at a dead body.

Shawn went over to Lassiter and Juliet and put an arm around each of their shoulders. He did this because he knew it would annoy Lassiter and because he wanted to see if he could make Juliet blush.

Lassiter jerked away from Shawn, rather roughly, and Juliet shrugged him off, her manner much more gentle than Lassie's. And unfortunately she didn't blush, but Lassiter was pretty ticked, so it was all worth it.

"I know being serious is an adult thing, but you could at least pretend to be," Lassiter growled at his least favorite psychic.

"But then I wouldn't be the cuddly psychic that you have come to know and love...like... or tolerate... on occasion. Anyway, so what's up?" Shawn looked to Juliet for answers, because he had a feeling the Lassiter was debating on whether or not it would be worth it to shoot him.

Juliet looked down at a notebook that she had taken notes in. "Well, the victim's name is Thomas Kinkle, and he appears to have been beaten to death with a pipe or a bat."

"What," Shawn interrupted, "like the flying rodent?"

Juliet gave Shawn a look, and then said, "no, like a baseball bat."

"Oh," Shawn said. "That makes more sense."

Juliet rolled her eyes and continued. "Mr. Kinkle was last seen with his business partner, Michael Furly but neighbors have reported that they saw him leave before, what we believe to be, the time of death. Though we've sent some men to bring him in for questioning anyways, and we're also going to be bringing in Mr. Kinkle's cousin, because they, apparently, were at odds."

"Okay," Shawn said, "why don't I just start to look around and see if I can sense anything." Shawn walked back over to Gus, who was studying the pictures that hung on the wall. "Did you get any of that?" Shawn asked his friend.

"No," was the reply. Gus didn't even look at him.

Shawn sighed and rolled his eyes. Great, now he was going to have to fill Gus in on everything. That wasn't going to help get the case solved any quicker.

"Okay then, let's see what I can pick up," Shawn whisper to Gus.

Shawn started to look around, doing his usual. You know, concentrating on what it was that he was seeing. But suddenly that weird sensation, the one that he got when he first entered the house, came back tenfold.

Then Shawn heard a noise, but it was strangely muffled and seemed to come from inside of his head. And then he saw something.

It was a man. Sort of. He was blurry and shadowy, even though the room was brightly lit. The man's features weren't very distinguishable. His face was worn, as if it had been painted on and now that a few decades had passed the paint had started to fade away.

Suddenly there was another man, next to the first. They started to move.

Shawn watched the two men (for what else could they be?) following with only his eyes because he couldn't seem to move his body. He watched them as they moved throughout the room, walking right through the people in the room, as if they weren't there. And he heard the men's muffled voices in his head. And no one else (the real people) seemed to realize that two shadow people were running through them. For they were running now. And fighting.

Shawn only closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, one of the shadow people were gone and the other had a wooded baseball bat; one that looked real. And the shadow man lifted the bat high and ran at...Lassie!

Shawn hadn't even realized that he had called out, as he watched the baseball bat come down on Lassiter. But Lassieter didn't collapse. He didn't feel anything. And Shawn watched as the missing shadow man fell out of Lassiter and onto the floor, right where the dead man was, and almost in the exact same position.

Shawn ran. He hadn't even been aware that he could move until that moment when he found himself out of the house and halfway down the yard. But he didn't stop there. No, he kept running. He had to get away from that house. From what happened.

Shawn wasn't sure how long he had been running, when he suddenly became aware that someone behind him was calling out his name. Then he realized that it was Gus. So he slowed to a stop and collapsed onto the grass of some random front lawn and waited; gasping for breath that, until that point, he hadn't realized that he was out of.

"Shawn," Gus gasped as he dropped down to the ground next to his friend, "are you okay?" he panted. "What was that back there?"

Shawn stared at his hands for a minutes, not sure of what he was going to tell Gus.

"Shawn," Gus said, trying to make eye contact with his friend, "what's wrong?"

Shawn refused to look at Gus, and said to his hands, "nothing's wrong."

"Like heck nothing's wrong," Gus shouted. "Come on Shawn, we're best friends. You can tell me."

Shawn continued to look at his hands, but now he seemed even more upset than he had been earlier. Then he turned to look at Gus, his eyes revealing all of the confusion and fear that he felt.

"I think I saw the ghost of the murderer and victim," Shawn said.

For a moment Gus could only stare at his friend. Had he heard him right? He'd seen ghosts? That didn't sound right. That didn't sound normal. And Shawn seemed to realize that too, so Gus quickly racked his brain for a possible explanation for what Shawn thought that he had seen.

"Have you hit your head recently?" Gus asked, that being the only thing that came to his mind.

"Yes," Shawn said, some of the fear and confusion leaving his eyes. "Yes, I hit my head today."

That was great! Well, not great that Shawn had been hurt, but that now there was a plausible explanation for his hallucinations.

"How'd you hit your head?" Gus asked.

"I fell."

"From where?"

"A chair."

"Why were you on a chair?"

"I was changing a lightbulb."

"How'd you fall?"

"I got electrocuted."

Gus looked at his friend in anger and in horror.

"Let me get this straight," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "you fell and hit your head, because you were electrocuted while changing a lightbulb?"

"That's right," Shawn said, no longer looking distressed because there was now an explanation for what he saw.

"And this happened today?"

"Yep," Shawn said, suddenly back to his perky self.

Suddenly it occurred to Gus, just what Shawn had meant when he had earlier said that he was late because he had fallen asleep.

"Did you go to a hospital?" Gus asked, his nerves causing his voice to shake a little.

"Nope."

"Shawn!" Gus exploded, "how could you just _not_ go to the hospital?"

"Because I was late in meeting with you," Shawn said, as if that was the most sensible explanation in the world.

"Get up," Gus said, grabbing Shawn's upper arm and hoisting him to his feet, "I'm taking you to a hospital."

"Why?"

"Because you could have a concussion or your brain could be fried," Gus said. Couldn't Shawn understand how worried he was about him?

Gus dragged his friend all the way back to his car, which was a lot farther away than either of them had realized.

Shawn had ran a good three blocks away from the house.

**A/N:** Well, that's chapter two. I hope you enjoyed, and I hope to have chapter three up as soon as I can. Which could take a while because I'm a slow typer. But the story has been completely thought through, so you will get an end. Eventually. And I know that it was kind of weird to have the events happen from Gus's POV and then turned right around and have the same thing from Shawn's, but that was the only way that I could see the chapter working. Anywho, review if you like and if you don't, well...you didn't have to read it. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Shawn and Gus were sitting inside of the doctor's office. Impatiently waiting for him to come back and give them the results of Shawn's physical. Although they had neglected to mention the hallucinations, they had told the doctor that Shawn had hit his head, after being shocked while changing a lightbulb. After hearing that the doctor had done the whole works to make sure Shawn was okay.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus asked his friend as he watched Shawn comb the room for something.

"I'm looking for his stash," Shawn explained as he looked through the cabinets.

"His what?"

"Of suckers. You know, you go to the doctors if you're sick and if you're a good boy then you get a sucker."

"Shawn, you only get a sucker at the doctor's office if you're a kid."

"I know, and I want one. It's so unfair."

Gus rolled his eyes. Leave it to Shawn to have what was probably his most terrifying experience ever and have him act completely normal at the prospect of a pineapple or banana sucker. Apparently both were very good, and if Shawn found the suckers he wasn't sure which he would have, although he was feeling in a more 'bananay' mood. Unless of course the sucker industry finally decided to make apple flavored suckers, then he would want to try that one, because it was something new.

All in all, Gus couldn't wait for the doctor to come back.

The door to the office opened and a middle-aged man walked inside, causing Shawn to quickly abandon his search.

"Well Mr. Spencer," the doctor said, looking briefly into a manila folder and then shutting it, "you seem to be the picture of health. Your little accident while changing your lightbulb appears to have no affect on you whatsoever. And the only indication that you had hit your head is that bump."

Shawn and Gus stared at the doctor for a moment, shocked. Then they looked at each other.

"You mean, Shawn doesn't have a concussion?" Gus asked, wanting to make sure that he had heard the doctor correctly.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," the doctor confirmed with a nod.

"And his brain _wasn't_ fried when he was electrocuted?" Gus pursued.

The doctor couldn't resist giving Gus a strange look before answering, "he's in a perfect state of health."

"Well that was wholly unexpected," Shawn said as he and Gus made their way out of the hospital and over to the parking lot.

"I don't get it," Gus said, "I just don't get it. How can you _not_ have a concussion? How could you _not_ be hurt in anyway?"

"I'm a very resilient person Gus," Shawn said as Gus unlocked the doors to his car and the two climbed inside. "But what I don't understand now, is what could have caused me to see those ghosts?"

Gus placed his hands on the steering wheel, even though he hadn't started the car yet, and just sat there for a moment, thinking.

"Maybe," Gus said, after a few minutes of silence, "you were just stressed."

"Yes, because stressed people often see ghosts murdering each other," Shawn shot at him.

Gus didn't respond to Shawn's satirical remark, because up until that point the only thing that Shawn had told him, was that he had seen ghosts. He had never mentioned what it was that the ghosts had been doing.

"You were seeing the murder being played out?" Gus finally asked.

Shawn looked at Gus and for a second he thought that Shawn was going to either confirm or deny his guess, but instead he turned forward and opened up the glove compartment.

"What do you have to eat in here?" he asked.

Gus rolled his eyes and started the car. He then pulled out of the parking lot, as Shawn pulled three bags out of the compartment. One was a bag of chips, one had peanuts, and the last held jerky.

Shawn looked at the three bags in contemplation as Gus tried to think of another reason why his friend had seen the things that he had.

"Maybe you were just tired," Gus suggested, even though as he said it he knew that that couldn't be the answer.

"Yeah Gus," Shawn said sarcastically, "because I'm just not me when I don't get my full sixteen hours of sleep."

Shawn turned back to the bags of food, going through his mind which one he wanted to eat the most. Gus, on the other hand, continued to try and figure out something...anything else that could attribute to Shawn's condition. But after about eight minutes of contemplation, he hadn't been able to think of anything.

"So nuts it is then," Shawn said suddenly.

Gus turned to look at Shawn, so that he could tell his friend that he wasn't nuts. But before he had a chance to say anything, Shawn opened up the bag that held the peanuts and popped a few into his mouth. Gus turned back to the road.

So wait, did that mean that Shawn's comment had been referring to the food, or to himself? Gus wondered.

"Both," Shawn said.

"Both what?" Gus asked.

"Huh?" Shawn turned to Gus, "what are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" Gus shot back.

"I don't know," Shawn admitted. "I just felt like I should say 'both'."

"Why would you feel like you need to say that?"

Shawn sighed and put his head into his hands. "You know what, I'm feeling really tired. Could you just take me home?"

"Shawn, I'm not so sure that you should be alone right now," Gus told him.

Shawn lifted his head and gave Gus a weak smile. "I promise to call if I see anymore ghosties. Okay?"

Gus thought for a moment and then sighed. He would want to be alone right now too, if he were Shawn.

"Okay."

So Gus took Shawn home, but he didn't leave until he had reminded Shawn, several times, that if he needed to that he could call anytime. And Shawn had thanked Gus, but assured him that he wouldn't be calling.

NEXT MORNING

Gus was drifting somewhere between dream and consciousness. His bed was warm and comfortable and he didn't want to wake up. But he could feel himself leaving his dream-like state as he heard a voice calling his name.

"Guuuuusssss. Guuuuuussss. It's time to wake uuuuuuuupppp Guuuuusssss."

Gus opened his eyes and found himself staring directly into a pair of bright blue ones. This was not something that he had been expecting, so he screamed and in one fluid movement jumped out of bed. That's when he saw that it was Shawn's eyes that he had been staring at, because Shawn was laying on Gus's bed.

"Hahahaha, that was priceless," Shawn said, his whole body shaking with laughter.

"Shawn!" Gus yelled, all of the worry that he had felt for his friend the prior day was gone. "How many times do I have to tell you to _not_ break into my house?"

"Oh Gus relax," Shawn said, getting control of himself.

"How am I supposed to relax when you scare me half to death?" Gus's tone aggravated.

"I don't look that bad," Shawn said, sitting up.

Shawn then sobered up and looked Gus directly in the eye. There was no amusement or sparkle in Shawn's eyes. He was being dead serious now.

"I thought about it all night," Shawn said.

Gus didn't have to asked Shawn what he was talking about. He knew.

"I thought about it, and I think that I know what had happened." Shawn suddenly had Gus's full and undivided attention. "What I saw," he continued, "you know, the ghosts...I think that it was a vision."

That was not what Gus had been expecting to hear.

"Shawn," Gus said, his tone gentle, "you couldn't have had a vision. You _don't_ have visions. You're not psychic."

Gus hadn't even been aware that Shawn had moved, all he knew was that one minute Shawn was on the bed and the next he had Gus flat against the wall. His hands placed firmly against the wall on either side of Gus. Pinning him. And when Shawn lifted his head to look into Gus's eyes, Gus could see a slight desperation in them.

"Gus," Shawn's voice was strained, "right now I'm faced with two options here. One, that I have somehow gained psychic powers and that the ghosts that I saw were really a vision. Or two, that I have undoubtedly and irrevocably lost my mind."

As Gus stared into the tired eyes of his best friend, he realized that Shawn had truly thought this through. He had weighed both options carefully and had, as the saying goes, picked his poison. The option that he had chosen had been one that up until that point he had believed to be unreal. He had decided to condemn himself to being something that he didn't believe actually existed, instead of accepting that he had lost his mind. Which one of the most precious things that Shawn owned.

"So you're psychic now," Gus finally said, his voice also a little strained.

At that comment Shawn's whole countenance changed. He was back to looking like the Shawn that Gus had grown up knowing.

"Apparently," Shawn said, dropping his hands to his side and stepping away from Gus, "possibly...hopefully, I haven't really tested it out yet. So that's why I need you to get dressed pronto. We need to go and get some Chinese food and then go back to the crime scene."

There was so much wrong with what Shawn had just said. Starting with the Chinese food. It was seven in the morning for goodness-sake! Then there was the whole 'go back to the crime scene' thing.

"Why do we have to go back to the crime scene?" Gus asked.

"Because I can't be sure if I have psychic powers, if I don't go back to where I first used them and duplicate what happened, but with results that will help the investigation. Because I might as well actually be insane if I see the same thing but don't get anything useful out of it."

Gus was surprised by how much thought that Shawn had actually put into this. Especially since Shawn never thought anything through.

"Okay," Gus said, "just give me a minute to get dressed. Then we can head out."

"Thank you," Shawn said.

"..."

"Why aren't you getting dressed?"

Gus gave his friend a look of disbelief.

"What?"

"Get out!" Gus shouted, pointing at the door.

Shawn rolled his eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well if you're going to be like that," he said.

"Yes, I am. Now..." and instead of finishing his sentence, Gus jabbed his finger at the doorway.

Again Shawn sighed, but then he left.

Gus closed the door forcefully and locked it. And for a moment he had to just stand in the middle of his room grinding his teeth. Really, sometimes Shawn could just be so... Gus didn't bother to continue on his train of thought, because if he took too long in getting dressed then Shawn would probably do something really stupid or annoying or both. So as quickly as possible, Gus got dressed and then headed out of his room.

Gus entered his living room, just as Shawn was hanging up his phone.

"Who were you talking to?" Gus asked.

"Just the Chinese place. I ordered ahead. Hope you're okay with noodles, wantons and sweet and sour chicken, because that's what I ordered."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Anything's fine with me," he said, "I'm probably not going to eat any of it anyway."

"But Gus," Shawn said in mock shock, "breakfast is the most important meal of the day. No, I can't let you ruin your whole day and possibly your whole life, just because you want to skip one meal. I'm sorry, but real friends make real friends eat Chinese."

Gus didn't even bother to respond to what Shawn had just said to him. It would be best to just let it go.

"Let's go," Gus said, grabbing his keys and wallet off of the coffee table and heading for the door.

" 'Kay," Shawn said happily, as he trailed behind Gus.

"What restaurant did you order our food at?" Gus asked as he and Shawn got into the car.

"The one that's by our office," Shawn told him, buckling in.

Gus paused, keys in the ignition. Slowly he turned to face Shawn.

"The one by our office?" Gus repeated.

"Yep."

"Shawn," Gus snapped, "that place fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of where we're going."

"I know," Shawn said, unfazed by Gus's anger, "but it's the only Chinese food place that's open at this hour."

Gus growled and started the car. Then he drove to the Chinese place, but not because he wanted to, but because Shawn kept complaining about how he had already ordered the food and about how if they didn't pick the food up then they would loose their credibility there.

Once the two were finally headed in the direction of their original destination, Gus noticed that Shawn had grown quiet again. And when they were all but five minutes away from the house, Shawn had stopped eating.

"Are you okay?" Gus asked, he realized how hard this must be for his friend. For in a few minutes they would finally be able to come to the final conclusion on what was going on with Shawn.

"I'm fine," Shawn said, although anxiety could be heard in his voice.

They were quiet for the remainder of the drive and when the two reached the deserted house, Shawn couldn't suppress a shudder.

"Shawn..." Gus was going to asked if he was okay again, but Shawn beat him to it.

"I can feel the ghosts," Shawn explained. "Come on, let's go."

Shawn and Gus got out of the car and headed up the walk and to the front door. But before they went inside, Shawn stopped. He had to gather his bearings. He knew what was coming and he wasn't looking forward to it. So, with a deep sigh, Shawn stepped into the house.

As it did the first time, the feeling of something being off, came to Shawn. But since he had prepared himself for it, and because he was sure of why he was getting the feeling, it wasn't as bad as it had been the first time. 'Not as bad' meaning that he wasn't frozen in place like the first time. And he was able to continue walking with Gus, supportively by his side, into the living room.

The body had been removed from the middle of the floor and a large red stain on the carpet was the only indication that it had ever been there.

Shawn took a calming breath and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"Shawn," Gus said quietly, leaning in towards his friend, "are you getting anything?"

"No," Shawn said, his tone frustrated. They had been in the house for over a half-hour now, waiting for the ghosts to show themselves. But as of yet, nothing had happened. "I don't get it," he continued, "why aren't they showing themselves. I know they're here. I can feel them."

A thought occurred to Gus. "Maybe," he said, "you don't really feel them." At the death-glare that Shawn shot at Gus, he continued quickly, "no really. The mind is an amazing thing," as if he needed to tell that to Shawn, "if you believe that you're going to feel ghosts, then your mind can convince your body that you really are. I'm just saying, maybe you've convinced yourself that you can feel the ghosts, because of what you saw the other day. And maybe what happened the other day was just a temporary side-affect of getting electrocuted. I mean, just because you were okay when we got to the doctor's office, doesn't mean that you were okay before that."

Gus waited for Shawn to say something. But Shawn didn't say anything. He only gave Gus a look, that he couldn't place (was it hurt?), and shook his head.

"Shawn..." Gus started, but then trailed off. He didn't know he he should say. He tried again.

"Just think about what I–"

"I don't feel them with my body." Shawn interrupted, looking at the floor instead of Gus. "I feel them with my mind, but I just happen to react to that physically." Shawn looked up at Gus, his eyes showing not anger or confusion or fear but fatigue. Shawn was tired. "Gus, I feel them in my mind and I don't mean my brain, I mean my subconscious. And I'm not seeing any ghosts so I guess we can go and get me a nice white jacket, because it looks like we won't have to worry about returning it."

Gus was silent. He didn't know what to say. Shawn had convinced himself that he was one of two things and now, for him, it looked like he was the option that he didn't want to consider.

"Maybe..." Gus sighed, "I mean... what were you doing? You know... when you first saw the ghosts."

Shawn's eyes lit up. "That's it," he said.

How had he not seen that before? It made perfect sense that he would have to repeat his actions the other day, to get the same results today.

"Stand back," Shawn said to Gus. And then he started to concentrate on the room he was in. On the things he was seeing. Suddenly he heard it. The muffled echo-y sound of voices in his head.

Shawn turned his head and saw two shadowy figures standing just on the other side of the couch. They were talking, but Shawn couldn't make out what they were saying. Although he could make out the tone to be pleasant enough.

Suddenly the tone of the conversation changed. The two men were angry and gesturing wildly at each other. Then one of the ghosts, who Shawn instinctively knew was the victim, started to walk away.

"Are you seeing anything?" Gus asked.

The ghosts flickered.

"Shh," Shawn snapped, not taking his eyes off of the ghosts. He needed to concentrate or he'd lose them.

The ghosts were nearing Shawn and Gus, when the murderer roughly grabbed the victim's upper arm and spun him to face him. But the victim, using the momentum, slugged the murderer in the face.

Shawn noticed something white fly away from the murderer, but the didn't follow where it went, because the victim was sprinting to the other side of the room and if Shawn didn't move then the ghost would have gone right through him.

"Shawn!" Gus said, surprised by the suddenly movement of his friend.

As the ghosts flickered, yet again, Shawn slammed his hand over Gus's mouth. Then, same as the first time, the murderer ran at the victim with the unnervingly realistic baseball bat. And Shawn watched as he swung it at the victim.

There was a loud crack, one that Shawn didn't remember, and the victim crumpled. But even though he was on the ground now, and bleeding shadowy blood, the murderer swung the bat at him again. And again. And again.

Shawn didn't wait for the murderer to finish the job. He looked away, breaking his concentration. And the moment it was broken, the sound of wood hitting bone stopped.

"Are you okay?" Gus asked, worry obvious in his tone.

Shawn looked at his friend. His arm was still raised as if he was covering Gus's mouth, but he had unconciously lowered it, so that if Gus hadn't stepped back then Shawn would have been covering his collarbone.

"Uh...yeah," Shawn said, lowering his hand.

"Are you sure?" Gus inquired. "Because you had the same look on your face that I get when I'm watching one of your horror movies."

"Gus, don't _ever_ say that I make that face."

"I'm just saying..." there was a moment of awkward silence. "So, did you see anything useful?"

"I'm not sure. I think that the murderer lost a tooth. But I don't know where to look for it."

"You saw the murderer?" Gus asked, sounding impressed.

"Not exactly. He was too blurry to make out," Shawn said as he walked over to the general area of where the tooth had flown. "It's somewhere around here," he said, "but I missed where it fell." Shawn quickly scanned the floor, then he turned to Gus and asked, "Did the police say anything about finding a tooth? Maybe they got it already."

"I don't know," Gus said. "Maybe you should watch the ghosts again."

Shawn turned away from Gus and bit the inside of his cheek nervously. He didn't mind having to watch the ghosts again, as long as he could stop before he had to watch the actual murder. But he was worried that when he saw them again, that they would just start up where he had left off.

"Shawn," Gus said, moving to look at Shawn's face.

"Okay," Shawn said, masking the worry on his face, "sounds like a plan."

Again Shawn started to scan the room, and when the voices came he looked over at the stained blood on the carpet, expecting to see the murderer finishing the job. But he wasn't there, so Shawn looked over at the couch and saw the two men.

Inwardly Shawn sighed with relief, and he watched the two men. And when the tooth flew out of the murderer's mouth, he followed it and saw that it hit the floor and slid under the small opening of a large, black bookcase.

"Aha," Shawn cried out, causing the ghost's vanished.

"What?" Gus asked. But Shawn didn't answer. Instead he dove to the floor and looked under the bookcase, but it was too dark to see anything.

"Gus give me your keys," Shawn demanded, holding his hand out.

"What? No," Gus said.

"Gus!"

"Why?"

"Because you have that light on your key-chain and I need it."

Gus dug his keys out of his pocket and placed them in Shawn's hand.

"Thank you," Shawn said and he turned on the small, but powerful, light and shone it under the bookcase. "Bingo," he said.

"Shawn–"

"Fine, Yahtzee."

"No n–"

"Okay eureka. There, that's not a board game. We've no problem now."

"I wasn't talking about that," Gus said defensively, "I just wanted to know if you found the tooth."

"Oh...yeah I found it," Shawn said, his tone slightly indifferent.

Gus rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't be like that," Shawn said, standing up, "we got the tooth and I got a new word."

Gus gave Shawn a questioning look.

"Eureka," Shawn said. "I never realized what a cool word that is until this moment."

Gus gave an aggravated sigh.

"You can sigh later," Shawn said, shoving the keys into Gus's hands, "right now we have to get to the station. I have a case to solve."

EurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEurekaEureka

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must have imagined it."

"Mr. Spencer, please don't tell me that you're here for the sole purpose of arguing with Detective O'Hara," Chief Vick said, cutting into Shawn and Juliet's argument.

Right now Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, and Chief Vick were all in the latter's office. Shawn had gone in there to have a 'vision' of the tooth, but Juliet had followed him into the Chief's office (Lassiter was already in there) saying that she was glad that he was okay after his 'episode' in the crime scene the other day.

"Well it's not my_ sole_ purpose," Shawn said. "I actually came here because I was getting some strange vibes about the house." Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to his head. "I'm seeing...the ocean. No, the sea...no wait, not the sea. I'm seeing fish. Shellfish. Muscles. Clams. Oysters. NO! Not oysters... pearls," Shawn screwed his face up in confusion, "that's not right. Pearls...pearls...per...pearly whites?" Shawn's eyes shot open. "Teeth!," he shouted. "I'm seeing teeth. But not just any teeth. There's only one. And it belongs to the murderer."

"Well most people do have teeth," Lassiter said, sounding annoyed and like listening to Shawn was a waste of time.

"No," Shawn said, "not babies and not really, _really_ old people."

Lassiter looked like he would love nothing better than to pick Shawn up and physically throw him out of the police station.

"Well I doubt that Mr. Kinkle was murdered by a child or a senior citizen," Lassiter snapped.

"Good," Shawn said, "we're on the same page." Then, ignoring Lassiter's glare, Shawn brought his hands back up to his head. "I'm sensing a fight," he told them, "the murderer lost a tooth. And it fell and it slid under something. But," Shawn momentarily screwed his face up again, "I don't know what. I'm getting the color black and books. Lots of books."

"Bookcase," Juliet said, "there was a black bookcase in the house."

"Yes," Shawn said, "yes the bookcase. The tooth is under the book case."

"Well," Chief Vick said, "Detective Lassiter, O'Hara, I want you two to go down to the house and see if you can get that tooth. Then I want you to find out who it belongs to."

"Right on it," Juliet said and she left the room with a slightly dejected looking Lassiter following behind.

Chief Vick turned to look at Shawn and Gus, she said, "I'll call you if we get anything."

"Right-O Chief," Shawn said and he marched out of the room, Gus following closely behind.

Neither Gus or Shawn talked until they reached Psych.

"Will it really do any good?" Gus asked after he and Shawn had been in the office for awhile.

"Will _what_ really do any good?" Shawn asked, sitting upside-down on his spinning-chair.

"Finding the tooth," Gus said. Shawn gave him a confused look, so he explained further, "well, you _did _see the murderers ghost. So doesn't that mean that he's dead too?"

"No," Shawn said, sitting right-side-up, "that doesn't mean that at all. Gus, it was the victim's ghost that was showing me the murder. That's why everything was so blurry. It was one person playing out two roles."

"Well what if the murderer was dead? Then would everything be clear?"

Shawn thought a moment. "No," he finally said, "it'd still be blurry."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know. I just do. It comes with the territory."

Before Gus could say anything else, Shawn's phone started to ring.

"Hold on," Shawn said and he answered his phone. "Hello? Oh hi Juliet."

This time Gus tried to listen to his friend's conversation, but not only did Shawn not really say anything, but he kept his face clear and impassive, so that Gus couldn't read his emotions.

"Okay, thank you Jules," Shawn concluded, "goodbye."

"Well?" Gus asked, leaning forward eagerly in his chair.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Shawn's lips as he said, "it's official. I'm psychic."

Gus's eyes widened. "What did she say?" he demanded.

Shawn's face broke into a smile. "Well they found the tooth," he started, "and when they saw that it was one of the front teeth, they remembered that when they had been questioning the cousin, that he had been missing a front tooth. So they called him back to the station and when they confronted him with the evidence he broke down and confessed to everything."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"I know. Now come on, we have to go back to the house."

"What?" Gus shouted, jumping up from his chair. "Go back to the house? Why do we have to go back to the house?"

Shawn stood up. "Because the murder's been solved," he said, "and I need to know if I see the ghosts of unsolved murders or just murders in general."

Gus needed a bit more convincing, but very shortly the two friends found themselves back at the crime scene. But unlike the other times that they had gone to the house, Shawn didn't seem to be as nervous. In fact, when he stepped over the threshold he didn't stiffen up. He just stopped and stood in the entryway for a moment. Then he turned back to Gus, a giant smile spread across his face.

"Let's go," Shawn said. And the two left.

**A/N:** Well that's chapter three. And it looks like Shawn only sees the ghosts of unsolved murders. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry that it took me so long to update. And please review if you liked it, because reviews seem to guilt me into typing.

:D


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn was relaxing. It had been two weeks since he receive his newfound powers and he was exhausted. He had just wrapped up his third cold case, that he had inadvertently stumbled into, and the Chief was considering bringing him in on another new case, which would result in his fourth fresh case since he became psychic. Luckily though, he had sensed the Chief's intentions and had left before she could talk to him.

It wasn't that Shawn didn't like what he was doing anymore. He realized that under normal circumstances he would be jumping on every case that he could. But you could only watch shadows murdering each other for so long, before you needed to take a break. So that's what he was doing. He was taking a break. He was in the Psych office with the 'closed' sign up and his cell turned off.

Shawn wanted to use this time to try and come up with the best way of introducing his new powers to everyone. Because up to this point he had been very consistent with how his visions came to him and how his powers worked. And he figured that it would be unwise to suddenly have that change. If he could, he would just continue revealing what he sees in his normal (old) manner, but it was starting to get to hard to keep up his fake psychic ways when he was now a real psychic. And even though Shawn was now psychic, he still didn't want anyone to know that he didn't used to be. That would just make everything too complicated. Besides, Shawn wasn't really sure if his powers were going to be permanent. He didn't want to dig a hole for himself. Well, then maybe he should just continue on the way he is, because it would also be stupid to introduce his new powers and then have them suddenly stop.

In frustration, Shawn banged his head on top of his desk.

"Stupid new powers," he muttered to himself.

Shawn suddenly jerked his head up at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Someone had just entered the office.

"The sign says 'closed'," Shawn called out.

"Huh?" came a confused voice from the other room. Then a frumpy, brown-haired woman, with red-rimmed eyes, poked her head in the doorway.

"Oh please," the middle-aged woman pleaded, entering the room and approaching Shawn, "I need your help. I...I tried going to the police, but they wouldn't help me."

"Not surprising," Shawn muttered, sardonically, under his breath (the police never do anything). Then, standing up, he told the woman, "I would like to help you, but the spirits aren't very active right now. And besides, we're closed."

"I know," the woman cast a quick glance over her shoulder, "but the door was unlocked and I really need your help."

Shawn looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Danget, he knew that he had forgotten something. Apparently being psychic didn't make up for _all_ of his faults.

"What do you need?" Shawn asked, still looking upwards.

"It's my son. He disappeared."

Shawn looked at the woman. A disappearance huh? This could be interesting. Especially if the boy was alive. That'd be a nice twist.

"You see," the woman continued, "my son, Tomas, is seventeen and he_ had _been planning on camping this weekend. That's why the police aren't listening to me. They say that just because he left before I woke up, doesn't mean that he was taken. But I know he was taken, because I found this on the front lawn," and the woman held up a black leather string with a shark-tooth tied on it. "My late father gave this necklace to Tomas when he was nine. He and Tomas were very close, and Tomas hasn't taken it off since he got it. That's eight years. He hasn't taken it off in eight years and he wouldn't start now," the woman was now fighting back a fresh bout of tears. "Please, please help me."

Shawn wanted to help the woman, but he didn't see how he could with his particular powers.

"Do you want to see this?" the woman asked, holding the necklace further out to Shawn.

"Huh?" he said, his eyes snapping from the necklace to the woman. He hadn't even realized that he had been staring at the necklace. "No thank you," Shawn said, only it didn't come out that way it came out as, "yes."

Though confused at his mixup of words, Shawn still held out his hand and accepted the necklace. It felt warm in his hand and it almost felt like the necklace was vibrating. Somehow Shawn knew that the vibrating meant that Tomas, wherever he was, was in trouble.

Where was Tomas?

Shawn suddenly had an impression of rope come to his mind.

"He's tied up," Shawn couldn't help but say, "Tomas is tied up."

The woman gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"I'm...I'm seeing a building. It's not far from here. It's...it has a lot of rooms. It's familiar, though not?" Shawn scrunched his eyes up in confusion, nothing really made sense. He was feeling the fear that was coming off of Tomas and he was getting impressions to his mind, but nothing that he was seeing was clear. "There's...I'm getting the letter S. Sally? Sammy? Cindy, no that doesn't work. Sandy? Suzie! It's Suzie. Do you know a Suzie?"

"No, no I don– wait! I do. I do know a Suzie. She works at the Motel 6 that Tomas and I stay at when ever we go and visit my sister in Kentucky. Is that where he is? In Kentucky?"

"No, no he's in a Motel 6 here. He can see out the window. He can see..." as Shawn trailed off his eyes widened, as he finally realized where Tomas was, "he's just a few blocks from here! The motel is on Jefferson Street."

"Really," the woman asked, sounding like this was to good to be true.

"Go to the police," Shawn quickly ordered, a note desperation in his voice, "they need to get Tomas now, before the pool-sharks come back. Tell them that they need to go to the Motel 6 on Jefferson. Tell them that I told you to. And when they brush you off, ask them 'how many times have I been wrong?' They'll help you then. Go!"

"Yes," the woman said with a curt nod and she started to leave, but then quickly turned around and grabbed the necklace from Shawn. Then she shot out of the office.

For a moment Shawn stood where he was with a look of confusion on his face. It was weird, the moment that the necklace had left Shawn's hand he no longer felt anxious or desperate. He felt just the same way that he had, before the woman had shown up. Also, the impressions in his mind where fuzzy now. It was almost as if he had drawn the pictures and feelings in his mind with chalk and then had ran his hand over the picture, causing the images to blur and the the colors to smear and run together. Another thing that Shawn realized, now that he was thinking not only clearly but his own thoughts, was that the necklace had been pulling him in. It hadn't been like the ghosts that played out the murders, Shawn's concentration couldn't be broken. The only way to break the connection had been to remove the necklace from his hand.

Did that mean...could it possibly be that...?

Shawn quickly started to search through the office, looking for an old tie of Gus's that he had left there incase something came up and he needed a new one. Not too long into the search, did Shawn find the old blue tie. Clutching it tightly in both hands, he concentrated.

**

* * *

**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_GusGus_**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**_Gus_Gus**Gus**

* * *

Gus was just getting into his car, getting ready to leave a client's house and head back to _his_ office, when his cell phone started ringing.

"Hello, Burton Guster speaking. How may I help you?"

"You're extremely happy," was the reply that Gus receive.

"Shawn?" Gus asked, the key in the ignition but not turned.

"You're also at a client's house."

Gus took his hand off of his keys and started to look around himself. "You're not tailing me again, are you Shawn?" Gus asked.

"And the house, though a nice shade of blue on the outside, is a hideous shade of pink on the inside. It made you feel like you were swallowed by a seasick salmon."

Gus's eyes widened in shock. Those had been his exact thoughts. "Shawn where are you?" Gus demanded.

"The meeting with this client was unusually productive today. You sold big."

"Shawn!"

"I'm at the Psych office," Shawn said, a sigh in his voice.

"Oh really?" Gus challenged, "then how did you know about the house? Or my meeting with the–"

"Petersons?" Shawn interrupted.

"Patersons," Gus automatically corrected.

"Oh, I was close."

"Shawn! How do you know this if you're at the Psych office?"

"Because I just discovered a new addition to my powers," Shawn said, the smirk on his face obvious in his tone. "Apparently I can feel or sense people when I hold an article of their clothing. The closer they are emotionally to the clothing, the better. But since we're so close, that makes up for the lack of love that you have for this poor unfortunate tie. Really, you should love all of your clothing equally. It's only fair."

"You have a new power?" Gus asked, incredulous.

"Sort of," Shawn said, "I mean, I don't know if it's exactly new. I think that I got it when I first got my psychic powers, but I just hadn't discovered it until now."

"Aw man," Gus said. He really didn't know what to say. He wasn't even used to Shawn's ghost seeing abilities or the way he now _knew _what you were thinking. And now Shawn could know what you were doing, near or far, just by holding a piece of you clothing.

"I'm sorry," Shawn suddenly said, "I guess I should have waited to spring this new addition on you."

Gus felt panic rise in his chest. Shoot! Shawn knew what he was feeling.

"I don't mean it like that," Gus started to say, but Shawn cut him off.

"It's okay Gus," he said, though there was a hint of hurt in his voice, "we'll talk about this later. I have to go and have dinner with Dad now anyways."

"Shawn–"

"Bye Gus."

Then there was a click, followed by dial tone.

Gus swore under his breath. He hadn't meant to hurt Shawn's feelings. It was just that the whole 'psychic' thing was hard to get used to. He hadn't meant for Shawn to feel how creeped out he was. Shawn needed to know that Gus was there for him, not that thinking about his powers made Gus's skin crawl. But how was he supposed to hide how he felt, when he felt it on a level that Shawn could reach.

As Gus started his car up he sighed. He really did feel bad.

**A/N:** Buawhahahahaha. The end of another chapter. And now Shawn knows of one new power. And yes, he's always had this power. They're not growing and just popping up randomly.

**A/N(part two):** The next chapter is going to take me a while to write, because I am going to be writing for Henry and Lassiter. Who, in my opinion, are the two hardest people to write for. Especially Henry. So yeah... Anyways, the next chapter is going to be Shawn having dinner with his father, and this is going to be the first time that Shawn has been with, or even talked to, his dad since he got his powers. It's going to be an interesting (and bumpy) ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The italics are Henry's thoughts.**

Shawn did feel a little guilty about hanging up on Gus the way he did. But it had just been too weird. One moment he had been happy, excited and (due to his connection with Gus) a little confused. Then he suddenly felt creeped-out. He had felt this overwhelming sensation of everything feeling wrong and unnatural. And the worst of it was that he felt uncomfortable about himself. Like there was something wrong with him and like he didn't want to be talking to himself anymore. But that had been silly because he wasn't talking to himself, he was talking to Gus.

That's when it had dawned on him: that's how Gus was feeling. Gus was the one that was feeling all of those negative feelings.

So what else could Shawn have done? It was obvious that Gus hadn't wanted to talk to him and that he needed time to adjust to Shawn's newest psychic development. But Shawn wasn't going to hold a grudge against his friend, because before he had let go of Gus's tie, he had felt Gus's remorse. Besides he had bigger things to worry about now, because he had just arrived at his Dad's house.

Not bothering to prolong the torture that he was about to endure, Shawn clambered off of his bike and briskly made his way up the walk. Then he knocked three times on the front door and waited.

About a minute later, the door was swung open and Henry was standing in the door way.

"And here I thought that you were going to be late," was the greeting that Shawn received.

"Nice to see you too Dad," Shawn said in a mock-pleasant voice.

Henry looked out, over Shawn's shoulder. "I see that you're still riding that deathtrap," he said.

Shawn, also, looked over at his bike and replied, "yes. Yes I am. And that's not going to change. Even with your nagging."

'_I don't nag. I'm just worried that you'll get hurt.'_

"Dad you don't have to worry about me getting hurt. I _am_ careful you know," Shawn said, looking back at his father and receiving a strange look that he didn't quite understand.

"Come on inside," Henry said, opening the door a little wider and stepping aside. "Dinner will be ready soon."

" 'Kay," Shawn said, entering the house of his childhood. "So...how are things going for you? Get any fishing done lately?" Shawn asked, trying to make polite small talk.

'_Is that all that you think that I do?' _

"Yeah, I got some fishing done," Henry said, "and some gardening. Nothing that you would consider exciting, but many people do enjoy."

'_Life isn't all about excitement. I really wish you'd find joy in the simpler things.'_

"I like life on the fast lane," Shawn said, following his father into the kitchen and sitting down at the table as his father headed over to the counter and started cutting up greens for the salad. "And I do think that you do more than fish. You take bubble baths and go to horse races wearing hideous shirts that make people go blind. Or at least wish that they would."

"What are you talking about?" Henry asked, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at his son, before turning back to his chopping.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about? I'm commenting on what you're telling me."

Henry gave a sarcastic snort, "then I don't think that we're having the same conversation."

'_I swear, sometimes that kid's got a screw loose.'_

Shawn's jaw dropped a little, in disbelief. His father had never said anything like that to him before.

"Dad, I can't belie..." Shawn trailed off, his eyes widening and mouth opening up even more, as he realize what exactly it was that his father had said. He had said: "I swear, sometimes that kid's got a screw loose". NOT: "I swear, sometimes _you've_ got a screw loose". He hadn't been speaking to Shawn, but he had been speaking about him.

"Oh my gosh," Shawn whispered, his hand coming up and covering his mouth. He had heard his father's thoughts. Like he had actually spoken them! That hadn't happened before. Because before he only sensed what people were thinking. He had only received impressions to his mind.

As quickly as the shock had come to Shawn, it disappeared and was replaced by annoyance. It figured that his father would be the one person that Shawn could hear the actual thoughts of. That his would be the thoughts that invaded his mind. It was because his father was emotionally unsound, or something like that. Shawn was sure of it.

"Shawn are you okay?" Henry asked, having looked at his son and seen the deep annoyance that was written across his face.

"Huh?" Shawn asked, looking at his dad and erasing whatever emotion it was that was playing across his face. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just, zoned out there for a moment."

"Yeah," Henry said, turning back to his salad. "You know, I heard about all of the cases that you've helped solve in the past few weeks. It sounds like you did a lot of good work, without looking for glory. Just taking the cases as they are and not looking for more. Glad to see you've learned self-control"

'_I'm proud of you.'_

Shawn's head snapped up and he looked at his father. Had he just heard him right? No. He hadn't heard him. He had _heard_ him. That hadn't been something that Shawn was supposed to hear. But supposed to hear or not, it really threw Shawn for a loop. His dad...proud...of him? It just didn't sound right.

"Yeah," Shawn said, "a lot of cases." Then wanting to get off the subject of his cases, Shawn said, "I'm actually really wiped out from all of the work. I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't guilted me into it."

Henry gave a light chuckle as he put the salad on the table and then went over to the oven to get the fish that he had cooked out.

"I swear," Shawn continued, "it's like a superpower, because no one can guilt me like you can."

"Oh I'm not the only person that can do that Shawn," Henry said as he put the pan of fried fish on the table, "all parents can do it. It's the only power that we have against our kids."

'_Not that it ever really worked on you.'_

"Obviously it worked on me, because I'm here," Shawn said, instantly realizing that his father hadn't said that last part aloud.

"What?" Henry asked, setting two glasses of water on the table.

Shawn's eyes widened, ever so slightly, in panic. "Nothing," he said quickly, "I didn't say anything. You're hallucinating!"

"What? Shawn what are you talking about? Are you feeling alright?"

'_He's acting even more screwy than usual.'_

"I am not," Shawn said indignantly.

"You 'are not' what? Not alright?"

"No, I'm fine!" Shawn snapped more angry at himself, for not being able to keep his mouth shut, than at his father. Who was feeling a combination of annoyance and worry (amongst other things).

"Well you sure aren't acting fine," Henry said, sitting down across from Shawn and looking him over.

'_He looks like he's seen a ghost. Probably hasn't rested for the past two weeks. Doesn't look like he's been taking good care of himself. Needs to get a real job.'_

Shawn couldn't help but stare at his father as those thoughts raced across his mind. 'Cause Shawn had heard his father say some of those things before, but there had never been an ounce of worry or care in the words. That wasn't the case now, and it was wigging Shawn out.

"I'm sorry that I'm acting weird. It's just been a long week, and I need to get some rest."

"You be sure that you do...later. Right now, you're eating dinner."

"Yes sir," Shawn said.

The two ate the dinner in silence. Or at least, 'in silence' on a physical level. Shawn unfortunately continued to hear his father's thoughts. Some of them being just as rugged as Henry appeared to be, but others being softer. Showing Shawn a side of his father that he never knew existed.

"Well," Henry said once dinner was over and he was walking Shawn to the front door, "it was good seeing you again. Be sure to take better care of yourself."

'_And come again soon. I like seeing you. Even when it's for a case, but especially when it's a social call.'_

Shawn almost winced at the slight pleading tone in his father's thoughts. Tonight Shawn had learned more about his father, and his father's thoughts on him, than he even knew existed. Than he had ever wanted to know did exist. He had been in a scary place.

"Yeah, I will," Shawn said, and with a wave of his hand he was off.

**_ScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplaceScaryplace_**

Shawn was at his favorite bar, with the plan of getting as drunk as he possibly could in mind.

His father loved him. He wanted what was best for him. He wanted more for him. Wanted more _of _him. Was proud of him. Disappointed with him. Thinks he could do better. Thinks he could do worse. Has done worse. Needs to grow up. Has already grown up. Wishes that they had more in common. Wants Shawn to have more pride in his work. In his life. For his things. For his father.

Shawn's father's mind had been a freaking roller-coaster. First he felt one way. Then he felt another. Then he felt neither. Then he felt both, but with an emphasis on one.

Now all Shawn wanted to do was get drunk and forget about the whole ordeal.

Suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere, and Shawn usually would have ignored it (if he didn't then he'd get seasick) but it had been a shift to the familiar. Someone who Shawn knew well had just entered the building. Someone who Shawn loved to annoy. Someone who had just spotted Shawn and now wanted to get out of there before he was seen himself. Someone who could be a vent for Shawn's unease. And it was going to be fun.

"It's to late to run Lassie. I already know you're here," Shawn called out, making a point of not turning around.

Lassiter cringed when he heard Spencer call out to him. The last thing that he wanted to do was get into it with the fake psychic.

"Come on and have a drink with me. You've nothing better to do," Shawn said, his tone off-hand.

"I have plenty better to do," Lassiter snapped, not moving from his spot.

"Oh, so that's why the Chief sent you home," Shawn said sarcastically. "Come on, we both know that you've worked yourself into a frazzle and that the Chief sent you home for some well deserved rest. It's nothing to be ashamed of," Shawn finished, taking a light sip of his drink.

"How did you know that?" Lassiter demanded, approaching Shawn and stopping right behind him.

"Uh, hello?" Shawn said, pointing at his head.

"When are you just going to give it up? We both know that you're not psychic."

Shawn was barely able to refrain from scoffing and instead said, "oh come on now Lassie, we both know that your resolve is wavering. I feel it. These past two weeks have been a real blow to your beliefs. You just don't understand how I was able to solve all of those cases so quickly. Even a sharp mind can't make up for what I did."

"I don't think that you're psychic. I'll never believe that you're psychic," Lassiter growled.

"Then how did I know that you were here?" Shawn challenged.

"You turned around."

"When?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Then how did I know that the Chief sent you home?"

"You overheard her."

"When? I left the station before noon."

"You came back!"

"I couldn't have. I was having dinner with my dad. Ask Gus."

Lassiter paused for a second in confused contemplation at Shawn's statement ('I was having dinner with my dad. Ask Gus?'). Unfortunately a second was all that Shawn needed, to continue.

"And how do I know that when you were sixteen you had a pet bunny named Ralf?"

"How did you kn— no I didn't!"

"And that for two awkward years of you life, your favorite color was pink?"

"I was seven!" Lassiter defended.

"And how do I know," there was a smugness in Shawn's voice, that hadn't been there before, "that a big reason for you not liking me, has nothing to do with me being psychic? It's because I'm good at what I do. It's because I show you up. You're afraid that someday I may replace you. Now really Lassie, I think those fears are irrational. No one could ever replace you."

There were a few moments of silence, before Shawn suddenly gave a theatrical gasp and laughed. "Really Lassiter," Shawn said, "I really wish that you would stop thinking about calling me an idiot and other words that I don't feel appropriate to repeat. It hurts my feelings."

"How did you... No, never mind. I don't want to know," and with that Lassiter turned around and started to leave.

"Okay," Shawn said, still refusing to turn around, "drive safely. And I hope you enjoy your new book."

At the last thing that Shawn said, he heard Lassiter stumble over (or into) something. And he felt Lassiter look at him shocked, for a moment, before quickly hurrying out of there.

Shawn smirked to himself. That _had _been fun. And now, no longer feeling the need to get drunk, he quickly gulped down the rest of his drink and left the building.

The sun was starting to set and it was seasonably warm out, making Shawn want to just walk around for the pure joy of walking. But he couldn't, because he had ridden his bike to the bar and he didn't want to leave it there.

Shawn sighed. It looked like he was going to have to ride it over to the Psych office (it was closer than his house) before he could go for his walk.

Shawn mounted his bike and started to put his helmet on, but stopped when he caught sight of another familiar face.

"Juliet. Juliet. Jules, over here," Shawn called out, waving one hand in the air frantically, as the other held his helmet.

Juliet looked up from the magazine that she was reading, and waved back at Shawn.

Excited at her pleased aura, Shawn quickly scrambled off of his bike and sprinted over to the end of the street, where Juliet was waiting at the corner.

"Hi," Shawn panted once he had reached Juliet.

"Hi," Juliet said, obviously amused at Shawn's excitement.

"So the Chief sent you home too?" Shawn asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Yeah," Juliet said with a sigh.

"That's too bad. I know you really wanted to get those reports typed up."

For a moment Juliet looked surprised, but then she remembered what Shawn was and smiled.

"Yeah," she said, "I really did." Then she looked at Shawn thoughtfully. "You know," she finally said, "you left the station pretty quickly today."

Shawn shrugged, "just needed a break, I guess."

"Yeah. You've really been on fire the past two weeks. You're doing a great job. I'm really impressed. So's everyone else. Including Lassiter, though he won't admit it." Shawn smirked. "But," Juliet said, the atmosphere around her suddenly shifting, causing a shiver to run up Shawn's spine, "you seem to be a little off," her tone was concerned.

Shawn absolutely loved that about Juliet. You never knew what she was feeling, until the exact moment that she was feeling it. Her thoughts would turn on a dime and her mind was constantly shifting. She was like the ocean and her thoughts and feelings were endlessly changing with the wind. It was exhilarating.

"You're the only one who's not bothered," Shawn said quietly.

"What?" Juliet asked, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation.

"You're the only person who is not bothered by my powers. Chief Vick is generally accepting, but mostly amused or annoyed, depending on the situation. Lassiter mostly just wants to kill me, and at the moment is wholly freaked out. Gus...well apparently I make his skin crawl. And my dad just doesn't understand. Never will. But you..." Shawn took a step closer to Juliet, "you believe me. My powers don't scare you. You accept me as I am."

"Shawn," Juliet said, taking a step back and looking at Shawn with concern, "are you feeling okay?"

Shawn sighed and took a few steps away from Juliet. He had been to intense. "Yeah," he said, "I'm fine. Just need to go and get some sleep. I'll see you later," Shawn said, turning around and starting to walk away. "Oh, and be safe when picking your cats up from the groomers. The streets are really busy this time of day," Shawn called out, not turning around and continuing on towards his bike.

"Th...thank you," Juliet called out, before Shawn was out of earshot.

Shawn didn't pay much attention to his surrounding as he reached the Psych office, so thinking it was safe, he went inside to get a drink of water. But the moment he entered the office, he felt Gus's presence.

Shawn sighed, then called out, "Gus I forgive you, so you can stop hiding."

There was a thud from the other room and then Gus appeared in the doorway. "I wasn't hiding," he said annoyed. "I was waiting for you." Then Gus suddenly looked uncomfortable, "I... I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier. I didn't mean to–"

"What?" Shawn interrupted, "didn't mean to_ feel_ that way? Gus, a persons' feelings are private and I invaded that. I'm not supposed to have access to the dark recesses of your mind. You never wanted me to know how you felt, because you were planning on getting over it. Dude, I can't get mad at you for feeling. Now if you actually told me how you felt, then we'd have a problem."

"So you forgive me?" Gus asked.

"I have to. There's no fun in torturing you when I can feel how sad you are."

Gus gave Shawn a look.

"Come on Gus, you know I could never be mad at you."

"Thanks," Gus said, the tension in the room immediately evaporating. "So how was dinner with your dad?"

"Ugh," Shawn groaned, "you'll never believe what I had to endure."

Gus smirked. "I can't wait to here this."

"Well you'll have to, because before I tell you anything I must be fed."

"But you _just_ ate at your Dad's."

"You're point?"

Gus smiled and shook his head. Shawn would always be Shawn.

**A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed that chapter and I'm happy to say that I was able to get it to you much sooner than I had anticipated. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the character interaction, and I apologize now for any OC-ness of the characters. But keep in mind that you are getting a look into the part of them that they don't show the world. Also, I am done typing the next chapter so I should have it up soon. But I think I'm going to be evil and say that I'm not going to post it until I get at least five reviews. Muahahahaha. Yes, I am so evil. :3**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well I got my five reviews so you get your next chapter. :D**

It had been almost three weeks since Shawn had discovered the new addition to his powers. His ability to sense people through their clothing. And it had been a bumpy ride. It seemed to be getting even harder for Shawn to keep acting out in his old ways. He very soon was just going to have to just stand up in the middle of the station and tell everyone that he sees ghosts. At least then they would be quiet at the crime scenes so that he could actually concentrate. Not that he had been doing very many murder investigations as of late. Shawn had found that he liked finding people and such through their clothing. In fact he had just turned down a murder case that very morning to work on another project.

The front door to the Psych office slammed open and Gus came storming into the office.

"Shawn," he snapped, "what are you doing? The Chief just called me and told me that you turned down another case."

"Gus, calm down. I turned down their case because I was hard pressed to work another one."

Gus pointed angrily at a blue collar that was in Shawn's hand. "You're looking for a dog! How does that compare to finding a murderer?"

"Gus, have you ever been inside of a dog's head? It's amazing," Shaw said, putting the dog collar down on his desk.

"Shawn, up 'til now I have been very lenient with your behavior, but now, I've got to put my foot down. You can't give up a case, that pays actual money, just so that you can get into a dog's head."

"Gus, they're my powers. I can do whatever I want," Shawn said standing up and walking over to a filing cabinet that didn't hold any files.

"Shawn, you need to get serious about your— what are you doing?" Gus demanded when he saw his friend break off a leaf from a pineapple, that was on top of the filing cabinet, and stare at it in deep concentration.

"Sulking," Shawn said, his concentration on the leaf still fierce.

"What?"

Shawn sighed and broke his concentration on the leaf. "It's really sad that I can't feel inanimate objects," he said, "because it would be really cool to know how a pineapple feels."

"Shawn," Gus snapped, yanking the leaf out of his hand, "I'm only going to tell you this because I care."

"I know _why _you're going to tell me," Shawn informed him, "in fact, I know _what _you're going to tell me. So save your breath. You don't understand."

"What I understand, is that you've grown an unhealthy addiction to your new power. I don't like you walking around," Gus snatched the dog collar off of the table and waved it in front of Shawn's face, "feeling false feelings. They're not real and they're not yours." Gus then threw the collar to the other side of the room.

"Well that was childish," Shawn said, looking to were the collar had been thrown and then back at Gus.

"No _you're_ acting childish."

"Says the guy that came in here screaming and then started to throw things," Shawn shot at him.

Gus took a deep breath. Shawn was right, and he needed to calm down.

"Shawn," Gus said, once his temper was under control, "just hear me out and please, no psychic stuff. I don't care if you can hear my thoughts. I want you to hear me say it. Okay?" Shawn nodded. "Okay," Gus said, and he continued, "I don't like you feeling people through their clothing– and I'm not done, _don't_ interrupt."

Shawn clamped his mouth shut.

"I don't like you feeling other peoples' feelings. And I haven't since you felt that bullet."

Shawn remembered that. He had been helping the police find a man who was taken hostage. He had just been using a sock, because the man felt no affinity for any of his clothes. Which turned out to be a very good thing, because the kidnaper had decided against keeping the hostage alive and had shot him. Shawn had, unfortunately, been holding the sock when the man was shot, so he got to experience the pain of a bullet ripping through his body, without the lethal-ness of it all. Fortunately though, he had been in the Psych office when it happened, and Gus had been there to rip the sock out of his hands.

"I know–"

"I'm still not done!"

Shawn sighed, but let his friend continue.

"I don't like that you can't control what you feel from the clothing."

Shawn knew that Gus was referring to earlier that week, when Shawn had been talking with his father just as someone that Shawn was looking for, through a watch, got particularly angry. If Shawn and his dad hadn't already been at odds, in that point of their conversation, then things could have gone a lot worse. Meaning that at least Shawn and Henry weren't having a pleasant conversation when Shawn started to call him all those names. Henry still wasn't talking to him.

"And," Gus continued, "I don't like that you can't _just_ break your connection with the clothing. You get pulled into it and someone else had to pull you out."

"All I need is practice," Shawn informed his friend, "and once I get some, then I _will_ be able to control this power."

"But how much practice?" Gus inquired.

"I don't know," Shawn admitted.

"Shawn, you see, that's why I like your other power. That's why I'm getting frustrated that you're not taking the chiefs cases."

"That's why you like me seeing the ghosts?"

"Yeah, because if you need to you can break the connection with them like that," Gus said, snapping his fingers on the last word for emphasis. "And they don't control how you feel. I don't understand why you don't like that."

Shawn shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets and then looked at the ground. How could he explain to Gus what he was feeling? How could he explain that even though the murders were muffled and shadowy, that he was still seeing the murders? And that watching them wasn't what was bothering him. What was bothering him was the knowledge that what he was seeing was real. It was knowing that he was watching a real murder that actually happened. Shawn wanted to tell Gus that, but he had always been so strong before and he didn't want to start appearing weak now. Besides, Shawn figured that he would get used to it...someday.

Shawn was saved from having to answer Gus, because Gus's cell phone started ringing.

"Just a moment," Gus said to Shawn. Then he answered his phone, "Hello, Burton Guster speaking. How may I help you? Oh, hi Juliet." Shawn's ears perked up. "Yeah. Uh huh. Uh huh. Really? Yeah, I guess. Yes. Definitely. We'll be there. Okay, bye."

"What was it? What does she want?" Shawn asked.

"There's been a murder," Gus said softly. "Several, in fact. At the Holdslum's mansion. They were having a party down in the main living area. And when it was over, Mrs. Holdslum went upstairs and found someone murdered in her guest bedroom. And when the police got there and searched the house...they found six more bodies."

The color visibly drained from Shawn's face. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to do this.

"And you said I'd come?" Shawn asked, his voice cracking a little.

"Shawn, this is mass murder. Seven people were killed in four hours. We have to help."

Gus grabbed Shawn by the elbow and (because Shawn was already to far into his panic attack to protest) led him out of the office and over to his car.

It was probably one of the busiest crime scenes that that Shawn and Gus had ever been to. One of the strictest too. They weren't even let inside the front gate until Juliet came and let them in personally.

"Gus," Shawn gasped, tears actually starting to well up in his eyes, as the two headed up to the front of the house, "please don't make me do this. I... the spirits are..." Shawn gave a shuddered sigh.

"Shawn it'll be okay," Gus said encouragingly as they entered the house and Shawn shuddered violently, "you can break out of it anytime you want to." But even as Gus said that, he was starting to have second thoughts about bringing Shawn there. If Shawn was being effected so badly already... Gus shook his head. Everything would be okay. It just seemed worse because there was more than one dead spirit present.

"Aw Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster," Lassiter said when he saw the two, "I'm afraid that you won't be able to work around the bodies. Only those who absolutely have to are allowed up there. And we also won't be able to let you have access to the crime scene photos."

Shawn let out a small whimper that no one was entirely sure that they actually heard.

"So this is where the party took place?" Gus asked, looking around the cavernous room.

"Yes," Juliet said.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Well we'll just be going over here then," Gus said, grabbing Shawn's arm and leading him over to the middle of the room, to an area that was less crowded with police officers.

"Okay Shawn," Gus said, turning to his friend, "think you can do your stuff down here?"

Shawn took a deep breath and gave a firm nod. He could do this.

"Yeah. Just stand back."

Gus complied and let Shawn do his thing.

First he started to concentrate. He tried to take in his surroundings and, as usual, the ghosts appeared. But there were so many of them. There were almost twice as many shadow people, as there were police officers and they were all melding together. They were walking through and into each other causing everything to become blurry. And the voices, both in and outside of his head, were really loud and were starting to give him a headache.

For a moment Shawn tried to keep the connection, but it was getting to hard so he let go. But the moment Shawn tried to let go, the whole room started spinning. Colors and shadows spun together and the voices were no longer distinguishable. Then just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Blinking his eyes a few times and giving his head a little shake to clear it, Shawn straightened up. And then gasped. For he was not looking at a room of blue-outfitted police officers, but a room of vibrantly dressed party goers.

"What the..." Shawn started to say, but trailed off when he looked out the window. It was dark outside, like it was night. Not the early morning that it had been just moments ago. Shawn quickly looked up at the large clock that hung at the front of the room. Eight o'clock is what it read.

"No," Shawn said, shaking his head in disbelief, refusing to accept what he knew was true, "no, no, no, no! Sir," Shawn turned to the man next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Only his hand didn't stay there. It went right through his shoulder.

Shawn could only make a small whimpering noise. He wasn't sure how, but he knew what was going on. He knew that because so many people had been killed, that they were able to make Shawn's connection to them even more powerful. He was now a ghost in their memories. And he wouldn't be able to escape until they decided to let him go.

Shawn suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see a young woman in her early twenties with long brown hair and a yellow dress on. The woman would have been very pretty if her face hadn't been hardened into a mask of pure anger with dark, black-hole like eyes.

She was one of the murdered girls.

Suddenly another hand was on Shawn's shoulder. And then another one and another one until six very angry girls were holding onto him tightly.

Shawn was half-expecting the seventh girl to latch onto him too, but she didn't. Instead the six girls turned him to face a handsome young man, with a chiseled face and fluffy light-brown hair that you could take a nap on.

The man was flirting with the young girl. The girl was about twenty-five and had long wavy, light-blond hair and a petite figure. But she also had the cold dark eyes of the murder victims that were wielding a death-grip on Shawn.

She was the first murder victim.

Using all of his charm, the young man finally convinced the young blond to go upstairs with him.

Suddenly Shawn was in motion. The six girls were forcing him up the stairs (with inhuman strength) to were the man would commit his first murder of the evening.

Shawn struggled and twisted in their grasp. He dropped his weight, but they just carried him. He kicked out and screamed, but to no avail. It didn't matter what he did, they did not let go and they didn't stop their precession.

"Please," Shawn begged. He didn't want to watch the girl get murdered, but it seemed that he was going to have to anyway.

**_CensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorshipCensorship_**

Gus had been wandering around the room, trying to catch snippets of conversations, to help him piece together what exactly was going on. But none of the officers seemed to know anything useful, so Gus returned to his friend's side.

"Shawn are you getting anything useful..." Gus trailed off when he saw that Shawn was standing stiff-backed, as still as a statue, and was staring blankly ahead with a glazed look in his eyes.

Gus waved his hand in front of Shawn's face, but received no reaction. So then he tried to shake his friend out of his stupor, but Shawn was so rigid that he didn't move at all.

Gus was just about to call over a paramedic, to come and look at his friend, when Shawn suddenly gave a strangled cry, his face breaking from its expressionless mask, and then he collapsed.

Gus was able to catch Shawn before he hit the floor, but the momentum had brought both men to their knees. But the pain in Gus's knees was forgotten when Shawn gripped the front of Gus's shirt with one hand and he clenched Gus's arm with the other and then started crying.

Gus froze. What had just happened? What had just happened?! Shawn was always very careful to not show any emotion around anyone. Even Gus, who had known this guy his whole life, had only seen Shawn cry on three different occasions. And only one of those times, was Gus actually meant to have seen it.

By now Shawn's whole body was wracked with sobs, and everyone had noticed what was going on.

Juliet and Lassiter had started over to the two men (everyone else was giving them wide berth) but Gus held up a hand to stop them, before they got to close. Gus didn't want anyone to see his friend in this weakened state.

"Shawn," Gus whispered softly into his friend's ear, "are you okay? What happened?"

Gus was mentally kicking himself. He never should have made Shawn come here. They should have left when Shawn had wanted to. It was just... Gus had been worried about Shawn. He didn't like how quickly Shawn had taken to his new power. It hadn't seemed healthy and in all truthfulness Shawn's dad could have called them and invited them over for an afternoon of fishing and Gus would have made them go there. Anything to get Shawn away from that particular part of his work.

"They...made me...watch," Shawn choked out, so quietly that Gus had almost missed it.

"They what? They made–"

But Gus was cut off when Shawn took a deep (and loud, hence the cutting off) breath. And then Gus watched as, one deep breath after another, Shawn slowly smoothed out his face. Erasing all emotions until his face was a mask of cool politeness. There was absolutely no indication of his breakdown. And when Shawn finally opened his eyes, they also held no indication of what had just happened.

Only one metaphor came to Gus's mind, that would explain how his friend looked and it was: his face was carved of stone.

In one smooth motion Shawn stood up. And then he turned around and went over to where Lassiter and Juliet were waiting cautiously, for Gus to indicate that they could come over. They were surprised when Shawn, himself, got up and came over to them. His expression stoic.

"Shawn are you o– ?" Juliet started to ask, voice full of concern, but Shawn cut her off.

"Detectives Lassiter, O'Hara, I know who the murderer is."

Neither Lassiter or Juliet answered for a moment. It was strange, but they both were more thrown by Shawn's formal tone, than by what he had just told them.

"His name," Shawn continued, in the same tone of voice, "is Jamison Bagwell. He's 5'6", sharp nose, but is broader in his other facial features. Clean-shaven. He also had light-brown hair shag-style. And has light green eyes. I do not know where he lives, but I do know that the only evidence that you're going to find against him, is a lock of hair that he stole from each of his victims. Now if you'll excuse me," Shawn said, and he turned around and started out of the house.

"Shawn wait," Juliet nearly shouted, grabbing Shawn's arm. "Don't go yet," she started to say, but she was cut off by Lassiter placing a firm hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn't looking at her.

"Jamison Bagwell, 5'6", brown hair, green eyes, clean face, and we'll find locks of the victims' hair?" Lassiter repeated/asked looking at Shawn.

Shawn nodded, still looking straight ahead at the front door.

"Okay," Lassiter said, then he gave Juliet's shoulder a squeeze and she knew that he meant for her to let go of Shawn. She did.

Now free again, Shawn headed out of the house.

"Shawn," Gus said, walking beside his friend, "what was that? Where are you going?"

"Home," was the one worded reply.

"I don't think that you should be alone right now," Gus said, but he was ignored. "Shawn!" Gus grabbed onto Shawn's arm and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the ground, with his jaw aching where Shawn had hit him.

Gus looked up at his friend, in shock, but was surprised to find that Shawn was already beyond the front gates of the house and was running down the street.

**A/N: Don't hurt me! I'm not completely sure why you would, but I felt like I should make the plea anyway. And don't be mad at Gus. You have to understand (and the second chapter explains it) that Gus believes that crime scenes don't bother Shawn. He doesn't know how much it was affecting Shawn.**


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: If there is no indication of who is speaking, then it's Gus.**_

— — —**Day one— — — **

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_Click:_

"Hi this is Shawn. I can't come to the phone right now, which is weird because my cell is always on me. So that mean's that I'm either asleep, in which case: why are you calling me? Or I'm in the shower, so you'd better leave a message so I can get back to you. Of course, me not being able to answer the phone could mean that I've lost it. In that case, you probably shouldn't waste your breath leaving a message, because I will not be able to get back to you. But it's your choice. Here comes the beep."

_Beep._

"Shawn, it's Gus. I'm sorry I didn't try calling you yesterday. I guess that I was just angry about you hitting me. But I'm not now. Call me when you get this message."

— — —**Day two — — —**

"Shawn, I haven't seen you in two days. You're not still mad at me are you? Please call me when you get this message. We need to talk."

— — —**Day three— — —**

"Shawn, you're acting a little childishly don't you think? It's been three days and you haven't called me back. And I came by your house today. I know you heard me. Why didn't you come to the door? I was able to unlock it, but you had something pushed against it. Really, I know you don't want to see me, but we still need to talk."

— — —**Day four— — — **

"Hey Shawn, it's Juliet. I haven't seen you around for a couple of days. We haven't caught Jamison yet, but we are getting close. And if you could come down to the station, we could really use your help. Well, bye."

"Four days Shawn. Four days. This is getting really ridiculous."

— — —**Day five— — — **

"Shawn it's been five days. Have you even left the house? Look I don't know what you're going through, but we have to talk. You need to call me ASAP."

— — —**Day six— — — **

"Shawn, I'm going to call the police. I watched your house all day today and you didn't leave once. And I know that you are out of food. Unless you haven't been eating. Have you been eating Shawn? You really need to be taking care of yourself. If you don't call me I'm going to assume the worse."

"Shawn I'll call your dad. I swear I will."

— — —**Day seven— — —**

"Shawn, it's your father. Gus called me yesterday and told me that you haven't spoken to anyone in a week. You can't do that to your friends, it's not proper and it's not fair. Now I want you to call Gus up right now, or I'm coming down there."

— — —**Day eight— — — **

"Shawn it's been eight days. You can't shut me out like this. And I will call your dad back and tell him that you didn't call me. You can't avoid me forever.

— — —**Day nine— — — **

"Mr. Spencer, this is Chief Vick. I just wanted to call you, to tell you that we caught Jamison. He had actually been planning another murder tonight so it's a good thing that we caught him. So thank you for your help and whenever you can, just come down to the station to pick up your check. Goodbye."

"Shawn, did you hear? They caught the guy! Will you talk to me now?"

— — —**Day ten— — — **

"Shawn if you don't call me back today then I'm not speaking to you ever again! You're a terrible friend for doing this to me and I'm not going to take it anymore. You need to stop being such a baby."

"Shawn...please ignore that last message. I didn't mean it."

— — —**Day eleven— — —**

"Shawn, it's been eleven days. You don't have to call me, but can you at least text me so that I know you're alive?"

"Shawn, it's Juliet again. What's going on? I haven't seen seen you in almost two weeks and Gus seems really depressed. Did you two get into a fight? I don't know if you heard, but we caught Jamison . . . Shawn, what happened . . .? You know Lassiter, when we caught Jamison, I think he. . . I think you've finally convinced him. Isn't it great? You won't have to fight with him to take you seriously anymore. Please come back. I miss you. It's not the same when you're not here."

— — —**Day twelve— — — **

"Shawn, if you're not going to make an effort then I'm not going to call you again."

— — —**Day thirteen— — —**

— — —**Day fourteen— — — **

"Shawn I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I didn't call you yesterday. I should have. I shouldn't have let pride stop me. Please Shawn, please forgive me and please, please, call me back. Please."

— — —**Day fifteen— — — **

"Shawn, I can't take this anymore. I haven't seen or heard from you in fifteen days. You have to be out of food by now. You could possibly be dead and I don't know. I'm coming over tomorrow and if I have to I'm going to chop your door down, or break you windows to get inside. I'm not going to let you get away with this any longer."

— — — — — —

A/N: So, I thought that instead of saying 'time skip' that I would show you the passage of time in a little less conventional way. I hope you enjoyed that chapter and I'm sorry if the strangeness of it all confused you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Gus was going to see Shawn today. He had given him his space and plenty of time to sulk and now he needed to face the world. Even if it meant Gus grabbing an ax and physically chopping the door down.

At the moment, Gus was at the grocery store. He was planning on picking up some food to take with him when he broke into Shawn's house, because he was seriously worried that his friend hadn't eaten anything in the time of his absence.

Gus was just leaving the canned soup isle, and planning on going over to the produce section to get pineapple, when he saw someone that he hadn't expected to see.

"Shawn," Gus gasped quietly as he looked at his friend.

At first Gus was over joyed. Shawn was out of his house. He was interacting with the world. He wasn't dead!

But then Gus was suddenly angry. Shawn was alive and appeared to not be hurt or impaired in anyway and he hadn't called Gus. He hadn't tried to call Gus. He hadn't even texted Gus. He didn't seem to be food deprived (in fact Shawn had never looked better) and the worst of it was that it looked like Shawn held no intentions of calling him.

Gus was furious.

"Shawn," Gus shouted and, abandoning his shopping cart, stomped over to his friend, "why haven't you called me? I've been worried sick."

Shawn looked away from the shelf that he had been staring at and, smiling pleasantly, said, "Oh hi Gus. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Don't change the subject Shawn. I want an answer."

"An answer to what?" Shawn asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Gus ground his teeth. "To why you didn't call me. To why you ignored all of my messages. To, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," Shawn said, sounding like he meant it, which threw Gus a little and caused his anger to lessen, "I didn't know that you had been trying to reach me."

"How could you not know?" Gus demanded, surprised when Shawn flinched at his tone, "I've called you at least sixty times in the past two weeks, and I've left well over twenty messages."

"I'm sorry," Shawn said again. "I lost my phone. I...I haven't been in contact with anybody."

Gus could only stare at his friend incredulously. He seriously doubted that Shawn had lost his phone, and it was childish of him to lie about it.

"There are other ways of getting in touch with people," Gus said, trying to control his tone.

"I know," Shawn said, sounding guilty, "I was going to find you after work. I swear I was."

"Work.?"

"Yeah," Shawn said, pride in his voice, "I'm the new grocer here. Or stock boy. I'm not really sure. Right now they're just having me do whatever it is that needs to get done."

"Grocer?"

Now that Gus's attention had been drawn to it, he realized that Shawn was wearing a maroon apron that bore the store's name and logo.

"You work here?" Gus asked, shock the only emotion that could find its way into his voice. "Since when?"

"Since today," Shawn said, smiling happily. "I applied yesterday," he explained, "but they needed help so badly, that they hired me right away and let me begin today. Isn't that great?"

Shawn then turned to a large brown box that was at his feet and pulled a couple of boxes of animal crackers out of it and started to stack them on the shelf.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my friend?" Gus asked.

"Gus what are you talking about?" Shaw asked, slightly bemused.

"You had a summer job working at a grocery store in our junior year. Actually it wasn't even a summer job. You worked there for two weeks, collected your paycheck and never went back. You said that it was the most oppressive job that you had ever worked, and that you'd never work at a grocery store again."

"Gus, I was sixteen. I didn't know any better _and_ that was a long time ago. I can't be held to something that I said so long ago."

"But what about Psych?" Gus asked, trying to figure out what was going on in his friend's head.

Shawn's eyes hardened slightly.

"Shawn, did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry Gus, but I really think that you need to go," Shawn said suddenly, not bothering to even look at Gus as he said it. "I don't want to get in trouble on my first day of work, and I don't think my boss would appreciate me talking while I'm clocked in."

Gus could only stare at Shawn for a moment. What was he talking about? He had never cared about that type of thing before.

"But Shawn–"

"Goodbye Gus," Shawn's tone was firm and left no room for discussion.

"Fine," Gus said. And he started to walk away, but he wasn't paying attention so he ran into someone who was leaving one of the isles.

"Sorry," Gus started to mumble, but he stopped when he saw that he knew who it was. "Lassie?" he exclaimed in shock, but then he remembered himself, "I mean, Lassiter. Detective Lassiter. What are you doing here?"

Lassiter closed his eyes and appeared to be counting to ten. And when he opened his eyes he said, "why do you think I'm here? For what other purpose could I be here? I am shopping. I am buying groceries so that I have food at my house so I can eat. Why are you here?" the sarcasm was thick in his voice.

"I was..." Gus wasn't even sure anymore so he just pointed behind him at his friend, who was still stacking boxes of crackers. Totally unaware of anything else going on around him.

"What's Spencer doing here?" Lassiter asked, but the usual edge in his voice was missing. "I thought that he had locked himself up in his house."

"He's working," Gus said, "he got a job and now he works here. Please talk to him. See if you can find out what the heck is going on."

"Why would I talk to him? You're his friend."

"Because I can't talk to him right now. He's acting too weird. Please, just try."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but be pulled in by Gus's pleading tone. Besides, he couldn't help but be a little curious.

"Fine," he growled, "fine I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," Gus said and he stepped aside so that Lassiter could pass him.

"Mr. Spencer," Lassiter said, approaching the psychic, "...hello."

"Well hello Detective Lassiter," Shawn said, sounding pleasantly surprised, though Lassiter could detect a hint of wariness in his tone. "What brings you here today? Are you having troubles finding anything?"

For a moment Lassiter was completely thrown by Shawn's manner. This surely couldn't be the same Shawn that had made his life so miserable.

"No...no troubles. So... I haven't seen you around the station in a while."

Shawn gave Lassiter a funny look, before answering, "why would I be at the station? I'm a civilian."

"But you're also a psychic consultant," Lassiter said, giving Shawn a look of his own.

"Psychic? Really? Detective Lassiter are you feeling okay?"

"Of course I am," Lassiter snapped, sounding ticked.

"Hey, don't snap at me," Shawn said, holding his hand's up defensively. "I was just wondering. I mean psychic? Come on, _I_ haven't believed in psychics since I was six."

If Lassiter had been thrown before, that was nothing compared to now.

"But _you're_ psychic. Remember? Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic for the SBPD," Lassiter said, using the title that Shawn had given himself.

"Uh, no. Shawn Spencer, grocer for the Wallman's Convenience store," Shawn said, pointing at his name tag.

"Wait, so what exactly is it that you're trying to tell me?" Could Shawn really be saying what Lassiter thought he was?

Shawn heaved a deep sigh and looked directly at Lassiter. "Carlton," he said, "I am not psychic."

At first Lassiter was overjoyed. He admitted it! He admitted it! Spencer had finally said that he wasn't psychic. But then he realized something that Shawn had said.

"'Carlton'?" he asked. Had Spencer really just called him by his first name? "Did you just call me 'Carlton'?"

"Yeah," Shawn said, "that's your name isn't it?"

"I...um...excuse me," Lassiter said, and he quickly turned away from Shawn and rushed over to a very shocked looking Gus.

"Is he on drugs?" Lassiter demanded.

"No," Gus said, "no, that would actually make sense. But...but Detective Lassiter, about what Shawn had just said, about not being...he didn't mean it. He is. He's just..." Gus trailed off because, really, what could he say?

"When did he start acting like this?" Lassiter asked after the silence had stretched a bit.

"I don't know," Gus answered, "I guess it, I mean it must have, started with our last case."

"The one with Jamison?" Lassiter asked, wanting to be sure that they were on the same page.

"Yeah. That one."

"Spencer did act weird before he left," Lassiter admitted, more to himself than to Gus, then he turned to the confused and concerned friend and asked, "what exactly happened at the mansion anyway? What could have caused... this?" and Lassiter gestured at Shawn, who had almost completed the pyramid of animal cracker boxes.

"Well, Shawn never actually told me what happened. He did say, 'they made me watch' but nothing else. I... I guess that the spirits made him watch the murder."

Gus could have sworn that some color left Lassiter's face, before it flushed red in anger. Then Lassiter pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Um...Lassiter, are you okay?" Gus asked when Lassiter didn't say anything.

"Mr. Guster..." Lassiter seemed to be struggling with what he should say, "that murder..." he took a deep breath, let his hand drop from his face, and looked Gus directly in the eyes, "most of the bodies weren't even fully intact when we found them. And the extent of damage inflicted on the victims didn't stop there. And Jamison..." Lassiter took another deep breath, "he used to work for...he..." Lassiter sighed, "he was able to keep those girls alive until the very end."

Gus felt like he was going to faint. It had been_ that_ bad? So bad that the girls hadn't even stayed in one piece? And Shawn had watched? Gus was going to be sick.

"I don't believe that Spencer is psychic," Lassiter said, "but if there is some way that he had actually witnessed the murders, then I truly feel sorry for him."

Boy did Lassiter feel sorry for him. The Chief had only been able to make herself enter three of the rooms, where the murders had been committed. O'Hara had left the first room immediately, emptying the contents of her stomach into a trash can. And the forensics guys and crime scene photographers were still complaining of nightmares, brought on by the case. Even Lassiter himself had only been able to stay in the rooms for the most minimal amount of time.

"But whether Spencer saw anything or not," Lassiter said, with a quick glance at said person, "I think that you need to get him some help, and soon." With those words, Lassiter left. He would go shopping at another store.

Once Lassiter was gone, Gus looked back at Shawn and tried to let what he had just heard sink in. He was now seeing Shawn in a whole different light. And he was wishing that he had gotten to Shawn sooner. He had to find someway to get through to Shawn. To get him to open up. It wouldn't be good to let Shawn stew anymore on whatever it was that he was stewing on. What Gus needed was someone who could get to Shawn. Someone who could stir up his emotions so that his false persona would be dropped. Someone who had control over him. What Gus needed was Henry. So that's who Gus got. He called up Shawn's dad. Told him there was an emergency and to met him at the store. Gus had made sure to stay vague enough that so that Henry would be curious, but also give enough so that he knew Shawn needed his help.

It took Henry about twenty minutes to get to the store and meet up with Gus in front of the canned food isle.

"Okay, so what's the emergency? Where's Shawn? And what's broken," Henry asked, getting straight to the point.

"Mr. Spencer, thank you for coming. Um, Shawn's here. Nothing's broken, per sé. And the emergency isn't...it's...Shawn's acting weird."

Henry stared Gus down for a minute before saying, "you called me here, when I was in the middle of retiling my roof, so that I could talk to my son, who is acting weird?"

"Yes," Gus said carefully, Henry's calm, demanding tone was making him nervous.

"And let me ask you this: when had Shawn ever not been 'weird'?"

"Well this is different," Gus said defensively. "I've never seen Shawn like this. I mean, he's working _here_. He's acting like his fifteen day disappearing act is no big deal. _And_, he's refusing to acknowledge his work as a psychic."

"Well maybe he's finally decided to grow up," Henry said.

"If he has, then he's done so for the wrong reasons. Please Mr. Spencer, just talk with him. You'll see what I mean."

Henry thought for a moment. "Where is he?" he finally asked.

Gus smiled and pointed down the canned food isle, where they saw Shawn restocking canned vegetables. Henry arced an eyebrow and gave Gus a sidelong glance, before approaching his son.

"Hello Shawn," Henry said.

Shawn looked up from his work and gave his father a polite smile.

"Hello Dad," Shawn returned, before turning back to his work. "How are you today?" he asked.

"Well _I'm_ fine. But Gus seems to think that _you're_ not," Henry was watching Shawn closely, wanting to gauge his reaction.

"Well that's sweet of Gus to worry, but I _am_ fine," Shawn said, his tone even.

"Then maybe you should tell that to Gus, because he seems to think that something's wrong. Is something wrong?"

"Nope," Shawn replied.

"Are you sure? Because Gus did say something about you not 'acknowledging' your work as a psychic."

"You know what," Shawn said, still focusing his eyes on his work, "I just, really need to concentrate on what I'm doing right now. So maybe we could talk later."

"Why can't we talk now?" Henry asked, "work has never stopped you from doing what you wanted to do before."

"Well you know, I kind of actually _want_ to keep my job. And that's not going to happen when I'm talking instead of working."

"Well why do you want to keep this job. There are other ones out there."

"No Dad. No there really aren't. With my level of schooling this is probably the best that I can get. And I've got bills to pay, and a future to think about. I have absolutely no savings and nothing put towards retirement. And if I don't start working all of that out now, then I am in deep trouble when I get older and can't work anymore."

"Well that's very well thought out," Henry said after a short moment of silence.

"Thank you."

"You seem to have finally grown up."

"Can't stay a kid forever."

"No you can't. So what are you going to do about your bike?"

"I'm going to trade it in. See what type of car I can get. I need something more reliable than a motorcycle."

"Very true. Well it was nice talking to you. I'll see you around."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

When Henry got back to Gus, he pulled him into the next isle over.

"Okay, I see what you mean," Henry said, folding his arms.

"I know. Didn't I tell you? He's just acting so–"

"Normal," Henry interjected.

"What?" Gus asked confusedly. That hadn't been anywhere near normal.

"Normal," Henry explained, "he's acting normal. He is acting as any_ normal_ twenty-nine year old man would. Unfortunately Shawn isn't any normal twenty-nine year old man. He's Shawn. And Shawn's version of normal, doesn't match up with the world's version."

"Normal," Gus whispered, trying the word out for himself. As strange as it seems, that word made sense. Shawn was acting normal, and that's what was weird.

"So what can we do?" Gus asked, Henry.

"I don't know. Maybe you should tell me what happened to Shawn, to make him act this way," even though Henry's voice was even and calm, there was a slight edge to it.

"Well, um..." Gus wasn't sure what to do. Should he tell Henry the truth and hope that he didn't think that they're crazy and help Shawn. Or lie and still hope that Henry could help him. Each choice had its ups and downs, but in the end Gus knew what he had to do.

"Okay," Gus said, "I'll tell you what happened, but first you need to know that we are _not_ crazy."

"Well that's a very convincing way to start an argument," Henry said dryly.

Gus sighed. Yeah that probably hadn't been the best way to start, but there was nothing that he could do now, so he might as well continue. So speaking quickly, because he knew that he couldn't afford to have Henry interrupt, he said, "okay so almost two months ago Shawn hit his head and got psychic powers and that's why he was able to solve all of those cases so quickly and then he found out another power that he had and he liked it a lot but I didn't like it so when that big serial murder case came up I made Shawn go but the ghosts made him watch what happened and that was too much for him so he disappeared for fifteen days and I still don't know what happened during that time but now Shawn is here and is totally denying that he was ever psychic and I know this sounds crazy but its true and I can prove it because Shawn told me about his dinner with you and how he could read your mind and how he kept accidentally answering to your thoughts and if you think real hard you'll remember and know that what I've just told you is true."

Gus was gasping for breath when he was finally done talking. That had to have been a world record for most words spoken in one breath.

"Are you serious?" Henry asked, and Gus knew from his tone that he was in trouble.

"I, well...yes."

With his jaw clenched shut and his mouth in a grim line, Henry took a deep breath through his nose.

"Well Gus," he said in a controlled voice, "if you're planning on sticking with that story, then I don't think that I have anymore business here. You can call me when you're ready to tell me the truth," and with that Henry left, taking Gus's hope with him.

Gus didn't move for a minute. He didn't know what to do. With Henry no longer on his side, how was he supposed to get Shawn to listen to him? It's not even like Shawn listened to him before all of this happened.

Gus could always try talking to Shawn again, but he had already made it clear that he didn't want to talk to him during work, and Gus was afraid that if he made another effort right now, that it would come off as aggressive instead of as a concerned friend.

So now Gus needed someone else to talk to Shawn. Someone who stood a chance of gaining Shawn's attention. Someone who Shawn liked.

It came to Gus in a flash of inspiration. Juliet. Gus could get Juliet to talk to Shawn. It was a long shot. But the only other choice Gus had.

_JULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIETJULIET_

"Okay so let me get this straight," Juliet said, "you want me to go to the store and lure Shawn away by asking him out on a date?"

"Well it doesn't have to be a real date," Gus defended, "I just want to get him out of the store."

"Because he's acting weird?"

Gus sighed. He had known that getting Juliet to help him would be a long shot, but he hadn't expected so much resistance.

"Listen Gus," Juliet said, "I would love to help you, really I would. But I have so much work to do right now that I just can't get away."

"O'Hara," Chief Vick snapped from the doorway of her office, "I thought I told you to go home. I have nothing for you today."

Gus gave the blushing Juliet a pointed look.

"Ah Mr. Guster," the Chief said, upon spotting Gus, "I haven't seen you or Mr. Spencer around here in a while. Wait," she said scanning the room, her brow furrowing in confusion, "where is Mr. Spencer? Is he still away?" That was worrisome, especially seeing as Shawn hadn't even pick his check up yet.

"No," Gus said with a sigh, "but he's acting weird. He took a job at a grocery store and is refusing to come back to work."

"Really?" the Chief asked, not able to fully mask the concern in her voice. "Why's that?"

"I don't know," Gus said, his tone frustrated, "he won't talk to me and..." an idea occurred to Gus, "and that's why I came here. I was hoping that Juliet would come and try to get Shawn to come back."

Karen Vick looked from Mr. Guster, mischief playing lightly across his face, over to her glaring detective, then to the case file that she was currently holding in her hands. She couldn't lose Spencer. He had been such a big help to the SBPD and, in all truthfulness, she missed the rambunctious psychic that she had grown so used to.

"Detective O'Hara," Chief Vick said, making a split-second decision, "since you are so keen about working today, I have an assignment for you."

Juliet groaned. She knew what was coming.

"I want you to go with Mr. Guster and find out what is going on with our psychic. And I expect you to report back to me with some results." The Chief then pulled back into her office and closed the door.

For a moment there was silence.

"Fine, I'll come," Juliet said, sounding very displeased with her newest 'assignment', "but if I find out that this is all some hoax of Shawn's, to get me to ask him out, then you are also going to regret it. Got it?"

"Yes," Gus said, actually amused by Juliet's threatening tone.

"Okay, let's go."

The drive to the store was silent, except for the brief conversation where Gus told Juliet that the best course of action for her to take, when luring Shawn away, would be to invite him out for pineapple smoothies. Something that, in years spent with Shawn, Gus learned he couldn't resist.

It wasn't long until the two reached the store and found Shawn at the cashier, bagging the customer's purchases. Gus nudged Juliet forward, but stayed back himself.

"Hello Shawn," Juliet said coming up to him.

"Hello Detective O'Hara," Shawn said, turning to Juliet and giving her a brief smile before turning back to his work.

"'O'Hara'?" Juliet asked, a twinge of annoyance making it's way into her confused voice. "Since when do you call me that?"

"Sorry...Juliet," Shawn said, keeping his eyes focused on bagging the large amount of groceries that was currently being purchased. "So what brings you here today. Do you need help finding anything?"

"Uh, no. I just came here because I was wondering if you...you know, wanted to go and get some pineapple smoothies...with me."

"I'm sorry, I can't."

Juliet stared at Shawn in shock.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"I can't. I have work," Shawn explained.

Juliet suddenly understood the feeling of anxiousness that Gus had, because she was feeling it too. This was not Shawn-like behavior. She _needed_ to get him away.

"Well, what about your lunch break?" She tried.

"Already took it."

"How about after work?"

"I'm busy."

"With what?"

Shawn shrugged.

"Shawn why did you disappear? What happened?"

"Excuse me Miss," Shawn said, completely ignoring Juliet and addressing the old woman that had bought the large quantity of groceries, "do you need help?"

The old woman nodded, so Shawn grabbed her grocery laden cart and, with a curt farewell nod to Juliet, left.

Juliet quickly made her way back to Gus, who didn't look happy that Shawn wasn't with her.

"What happened?" Gus asked. "Where's Shawn?"

"Working."

"Well I... why... how...what happened? I thought you were going to ask him out for pineapple smoothies?"

"I did."

"You did?"

"Yeah. And he said no."

Gus's whole world collapsed.

"I'm going to go back to the station and talk to the Chief. Maybe she'll be able to figure out what we should do," Juliet said, and then she left.

Gus couldn't believe it. Shawn didn't turn down smoothies. He didn't refuse anything pineapple related. He didn't take jobs at grocery stores. He didn't turn down dates. He didn't...he just didn't.

Gus had to break down Shawn's defenses. Or at the very least, get close enough to the fortress to assess the damage. But how? Maybe, if Gus brought the smoothie to him, Shawn wouldn't be able to resist. At the moment Gus was grasping at straws. Anything that could maybe possibly have an affect, would be worth a shot. So Gus ran out to his car and, as quickly as the law would allow, he went to get a pineapple smoothie and went back to the store.

After spending about thirty minutes looking for his friend, and coming up with nothing, Gus found the manager and asked him.

"Well he's gone home," the manager informed Gus, "his shift ended about ten minutes ago."

In too much of a hurry to thank the manager, Gus left.

By the time that Gus had reached his friend's house, the pineapple slushy was all but melted. And Gus, after getting out of his car, sprinted up to Shawn's front door and pounded on it three times. Then he waited.

As Gus waited, he heard a strange noise coming from behind the closed front door, but he couldn't place what it was. And then, just before the door opened, the noise stopped.

"Gus," Shawn said surprised, when he opened the front door, "what are you doing here?"

"I thought that you might enjoy a pineapple smoothie," Gus informed him, holding the cup of liquid out to his friend.

Shawn looked at the cup's contents, made a face, and then shook his head.

"No thank you," he said. Then he started to close the door.

"Wait," Gus said, putting his foot in the doorway, "come on, let's talk. We used to talk. Please Shawn."

"I can't right now," Shawn told him.

"Why not?"

"I'm cleaning."

"You're what?"

"Cleaning," Shawn repeated and he opened his door all of the way, revealing a plugged in vacuum that was sitting in the middle of his living room.

"Since when do you clean?" Gus asked.

Shawn sighed. "Since my home got dirty," he said.

"Well take a break," Gus said, taking advantage of the situation and walking into his friend's home, "I'm pretty sure that you could use one after working all day."

"Not really. I'm fine," Shawn said, still standing by the door, holding it wide open in an obvious attempt to politely let Gus know that he should go.

"Oh come on. I'm sure..." Gus trailed off when he saw Shawn's cell phone sitting on top of the coffee table.

"I thought that you said that you lost it," Gus said quietly. It didn't matter that Gus hadn't believed Shawn, when he had told him that he had lost his phone. He still couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

"I just found it," Shawn said, and Gus, unfortunately, wasn't looking at Shawn so he missed any expressions that Shawn's face might have revealed, "I told you, I've been cleaning."

"You don't clean," Gus snapped, instantly regretting that he hadn't kept his anger in check.

"Yes I do," Shawn said, visibly annoyed, "and you're interrupting that, so if you could just leave," Shawn opened the door a little wider.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you've been cleaning?" Gus asked, "you're lights aren't even turned on."

Gus went over to the wall and flipped the light switch up.

Nothing happened.

Confused, Gus flipped the light switch up and down a few times, but still nothing happened.

"You're light's burnt out," Gus said, stating the obvious.

"I know," was Shawn's reply.

"Well why don't you change it?"

"Are you kidding me?" Shawn yelled, his eyes widening.

"What?" Gus asked. Then it dawned on him: Shawn had gotten his powers when changing a lightbulb.

"Well," Gus said, "if you want, I could change it."

"No!" Shawn shouted, causing Gus to jump a little. "No, no, no, no!"

"But I cou–"

"No," Shawn interrupted him, and then Gus didn't have a chance to say anything else, because Shawn grabbed his arm and pushed him out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Gus turned around to go right back in, but he heard the click of a lock and he knew that he didn't have any chance of getting back inside today. So he left.

**A/N: Buwahahahaha. Okay, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and you will find out what happened with Shawn when he was missing for those two weeks, but you'll find out later. Also, school has now officially started, so I will have difficulties updating between homework, and after-school activities and other stuff like that. And as usual, reviews are appreciated. :D**


	9. Chapter 9

_Diclaimer: I still own nothing._

**Chapter Nine**

Gus was at his wit's end. It had been nearly three weeks since Shawn started acting weird, and things had only gotten worse.Shawn was still working at that blasted grocery store; he was deemed 'employee of the month'; he was now wearing dress shirts to work; and he was combing his hair back and was using gel to keep it smooth and flat against his head.

The Shawn that Gus used to know was literally deteriorating in front of his eyes. And what was worse, was that Gus had no idea of what he could do to set everything right. Shawn wasn't even listening to him anymore. He would just wave Gus off with a flick of his hand and if he didn't leave Shawn alone, the manager would come out and ask Gus to leave. Sad to say, but Gus was now officially banned from that grocery store for 'hindering the work of the employees' and 'obstruction of peace'. That last one was totally ridiculous, because Gus had only yelled once...twice...okay three times, but that was all.

Juliet had tried talking to Shawn a few more times and even Chief Vick tried to talk with him, after Gus fully explained the situation, but to no avail. As far as Gus knew neither Lassiter or Henry had tried talking with Shawn again. Lassiter not talking with him wasn't anything weird or unexpected. But Gus had thought that Henry would at least try something. Even if he didn't believe Gus's explanation you'd at least think that he would want his son to get help, when he so obviously needed it.

It had been nearly three weeks since Shawn started acting weird and for the first time, Gus started to lose hope. Nothing he, or anyone else, did had any effect on Shawn, and Gus was starting to, reluctantly, believe that they had reached a point where there was not much else that they could do. Shawn was too far gone.

"You're partially correct Mr. Guster," Chief Vick said, when Gus voiced his thoughts.

At the moment Gus, Chief Vick, Juliet and Lassiter, were all inside the Chief's office. Karen Vick had called this small meeting, because she had an idea of what to do with Shawn.

She had seen this type of behavior before, granted not to this extreme, and she was pretty sure of what they could do to snap Shawn out of it.

"What do you mean?" Gus asked.

"Well," Chief Vick continued to explain, "there really isn't much else that we _can_ do. We've all let Shawn know that we care about him and are worried for him, but the rest is up to him. _He_ has to make the effort now."

"Do I really have to be here for this?" Lassiter asked, he was swamped with work and really just wanted to get back to it.

Chief Vick gave her Head Detective a hard glare before answering, "Yes."

Sighing, Lassiter gave Karen his full attention.

"Listen," Chief Vick commanded, looking at each of the room's occupants in turn, "I've had officers who, after witnessing something particularly gruesome, have not been able to come back to work for sometime, because it's too hard. I have found that when it becomes hard to do, the best course of action to take, is to get them right back into the game. They never get better if they don't completely re-immerse themselves in their work."

"Well how are we supposed to get Shawn back to work when he's completely denying that he ever was psychic?" Gus asked, voicing his biggest concern.

"He is?" Chief Vick asked, surprised.

"Well...yeah," Gus said, looking from the chief to Lassiter, in confusion. He had never told the chief that little detail, because he had been sure that Lassiter had come to her with it, the moment that he had found out.

Following Gus's eyes, Karen also looked at Lassiter, who was looking at the top right corner of the office and not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Then we'll have to get him to readmit it," Chief Vick said, returning to the business at hand.

"How?" Gus asked, finally looking away from Lassiter.

"I just received this case," Chief Vick said, holding up a manilla folder, then opening it up she said, "five year old girl, blond hair, blue eyes, disappeared from her back yard, missing for two days."

"Are you sure that a kidnaping is the best way to go?" Gus asked. He knew the types of things that happened to little children who were taken. Gus didn't see how that would help his friend, if Shawn was going to see what happened.

"Yes," Chief said, giving a curt nod and closing the folder, "if we're going to get Mr. Spencer back, then the best way to go about it will be with a small girl who, at this point, could still be alive. Than with a murder case, where the person is already dead."

"Okay," Gus said, nodding his head, "I'll talk with him first."

Silently Chief Vick handed Gus the folder and then he left. Lassiter followed closely behind.

Once Gus was gone Karen turned to her remaining detective. "Is Henry still not answering his phone?" she asked.

"No he's not," Juliet answered.

Karen repress a growl. She was going to have a long talk with that man.

"Dismissed O'hara," she snapped.

_A/N: okay first: I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. Two: sorry that the chapter is short, but it was either this or nothing. Three: Review pleeeeaaaaase. Four: I wasn't begging, I was imploring._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Gus had a hard time waiting for Shawn's shift to be over, but since he couldn't step foot into the store without security being called, he had to. As Gus sat in the car, waiting for three thirty to roll around, he started going over in his head what he was going to say to his friend. He wasn't completely sure of what approach he should take. Normally he would just go up to his friend and tell him that he had a case, but that wouldn't work this time. Gus was truly at a loss.

Looking down at his watch Gus saw that it was three thirty-five. Crap! Shawn usually left work on time. Gus knew this, because he had been watching his friend very closely the passed few weeks. Looking around the parking lot, Gus almost missed seeing his friend start down the walk and over to the bus stop.

That was how it had been when Shawn had first changed his appearance. Ithad happened before Gus was kicked out of the store, and he had passed his friend three times in the canned fruit section before he recognized him.

Quickly starting up the car and putting it into gear, Gus drove over to his friend. Matching his pace, he rolled down the window and leaned out of the side a bit.

"Hey Shawn," Gus said, trying to get his friend's attention.

Shawn's face showed that he was debating on whether answering his friend or ignoring him, but it seemed that the new Shawn was too polite for the latter choice, so he picked the first.

"Hello Gus," Shawn said, his tone somewhat stiff.

"So Shawn...do you want a ride?"

Again, you could see the debate raging on Shawn's face.

"No thank y–" Shawn stopped when he saw the bus, that he was to take, drive away.Closing his eyes and exhaling deeply, Shawn said, "yes, please."

Gus stopped the car so that his friend could get into the passenger seat, then he started driving again. Gus was heading into the direction of his friend's home, but he wasn't planning on going that far.

"So..." Gus wasn't really sure where to start, so he just dove in, "we have a case."

"Let me out," was Shawn's instant reply.

"Wait Shawn, just hear me out."

"NO! You can't just kidnap someone and expect–"

"Wait, kidnap? I didn't kidnap you, you got into the car of your own accord."

"Oh, so if you let someone into your house and they take your stuff that's fine. That's not stealing?" Shawn shot back.

"Shawn this is a completely different situation."

"No it's not, so let me out."

Starting to feel like this was an unsafe conversation to be having in a moving car, Gus pulled into the nearest parking lot and parked.

"You're not going anywhere until you've heard me out," Gus said, locking the doors.

Shawn scoffed. "Yeah," he said, "like this is going to hold me." He then pressed the button to release his lock.

Gus re-locked the door, then grabbed the case file from the back of the car and continued talking.

"Her name is Cammy," Gus said, he had read the whole file, and had memorized the most important facts, "she is five years old and she disappeared from the back of her house two days ago. No one knows what exactly happened or who could have taken her, but it could have been anyone, because there had just been a funeral for her cousin, who was the same age, and there were people everywhere.

"Shawn this is right up your alley. All you need is something of the girl's and you'll be able to feel where she is."

"Gus," Shawn said, turning to look at his friend for the first time, "I am not psychic. I don't know where this silly notion of yours came from, but it needs to go. This is a job for the police."

"Who are you trying to kid?" Gus shouted, completely frustrated at his friend, "we both know that you're psychic, why are you denying it?"

"Because if I was psychic, why would I want to feel the pain of a little girl. What type of friend are you, for wanting that for me?" Tears were starting to well up in Shawn's eyes. Quickly he looked away.

"I'm the type that wants my old friend back," Gus whispered, then with a sigh, he said, "listen Shawn, you don't have to use your powers. You can solve the case the way you used to. Just come back." Gus reached out and placed a hand on his friend's arm.

The moment skin touched, Shawn jerked his arm back. With eyes flashing he turned to his friend and shouted, "don't touch me. Don't ever touch me!" Shawn looked absolutely feral.

"Why?" Gus shouted back, angry at his friend's stubbornness, "because you can feel _my_ feelings harder when we're touching. Because it helps you to see what a jerk you've been lately?"

"Shut up!"

"Shawn, you can do amazing things, you can help this girl. You need to help this girl, you may be the only one who can."

Shawn gave a sardonic snort. "Is this where you say, 'with great powers come great responsibility'?" he asked.

"You know what? It is. If you have the opportunity and means for helping someone, and you don't, then that is just as good as killing them. If this little girl dies, it's your fault."

For a moment Gus and Shawn stared at each other.

Shawn gave a small snort and then said, "it's just one more thing to a long list." With that he unlocked his door and left.

Gus waited until Shawn was out of sight before he started driving again. He was planning on going to the police station and passing on the case file and job of talking to Shawn, to someone else. He had a feeling that Shawn wouldn't be talking to him for a while.

It wasn't until Gus had been driving for five minutes, that he realized that he was not heading for the police department, but another place entirely. But he recognized the streets that he was going down, so he continued on, he had business there too.

After a short ten minute drive, Gus had reached his destination. Henry Spencer's house. It really wouldn't hurt to have a talk with him. Maybe he had now cooled down enough to listen to sense.

As Gus cut the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt, he noticed another car parked in Henry's driveway. One that he had never seen there before. For a moment Gus reconsidered talking to his friend's Dad. The conversation that Gus wanted to have with the man, would be an awkward one to have with company around. Before Gus could actually make a decision, the front door slammed opened and he saw a very angry Karen Vick, stalk down the porch and over to the extra car. Looking up, Gus saw Henry watching her from his doorway and looking, if possible, even more angry than her.

The two angry adults glared briefly at each other, before Karen got into her car, slamming the door behind her, and drove off.

Gus chose that unfortunate moment to look up. Accidently catching Henry's eye, Gus receive the full wrath of his glare. That decided it. Now was definitely not a good time to talk with Henry.

Making haste, Gus pulled away from the curb and headed for the police station.

A/N: Sorry about the delay, school's been crazy and it's probably only going to get worse. I'll try to update as often as I can, but if I go through another long stretch of not updating, then be consoled by the fact that I will update again someday. I hate it when someone starts a fic and then stops, so I will not do the same. This story will end! Reviews are appreciated, thanks. -


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Upon arriving at the police station, Gus wasn't surprised to find that Chief Vick wasn't there yet. If it was him, Gus would have wanted to cool off too, before he came back to work. Unless of course Chief Vick was done for the day. Then her not being back would make even more sense.

Since the chief wasn't there, and Lassiter wouldn't help him even at gun point, Gus waited for Juliet to come so that he could pass the case file, and job of talking to Shawn, over to her. Fortunately Gus only had to wait fifteen minutes for Juliet to come up from the records room.

When she saw Gus standing by her desk, the file still in his hand and no Shawn in sight, her countenance fell.

"He's not back yet, is he?" Juliet asked sadly.

Gus shook his head. "Afraid not," he said.

"Well what happened?"

"Nothing good. I may very well have made things worse. I think you should try talking to him," Gus said, handing the file over to Juliet.

Juliet looked down at the file in her hand.

"I'm not off for another half hour," she said, looking up at Gus, "where do you think Shawn will be at that time?"

"Home," Gus said with certainty.

"Okay," Juliet said, setting the file on her desk, "I'll go and talk to him as soon as I can go."

"Thank you," Gus said. Then instead of going home, he just sat off to the side. He wanted to be around when Juliet came back. He wanted to know everything as soon as possible.

DoodleDoodleDoodleDoodleDoodleDoodleDoodle

Once Juliet's shift was over, she went straight to Shawn's house. He was needed back at work, and soon. Shawn's absence was not boding well with anyone at the precinct. They were all so used to him, that it was strange and empty with him gone. Everyone missed him. Well...not everyone. Detective Lassiter couldn't have been happier. And he didn't think twice about voicing his opinion that everything was better with Shawn gone.

When Juliet reached Shawn's apartment, she didn't bother to stop and think about what she was going to say. She felt that she would do better in convincing Shawn, when what she said came straight from the heart and wasn't rehearsed.

Juliet knocked on the door three times and then waited...and waited...and waited. Confused, she knocked again, this time louder, figuring that Shawn hadn't heard her the first time. Again she waited. Hadn't Gus told her that Shawn would be home? Juliet started to knock again, but was cut off by a voice coming from the other side of the door.

"Yes?" the voice asked.

"Shawn, is that you?" Juliet asked, talking loud enough to be heard through the door.

"What do you want?" Shawn's tired voice asked.

"I wanted to talk with you. Can I come in?"

For a moment nothing happened, but then the door slowly swung open. Smiling a little, Juliet stepped inside and gasped. Although she had never been in Shawn's house before, she had never imagined that it would be so clean. The walls were so white that it looked like they had been newly painted. The carpet didn't have even the smallest scrap of paper on it. The coffee table was clear of everything except a few stacked coasters, and was polished to the extent that Juliet could see her reflection in it.

"Wow," Juliet said, "I never would have imagined your home to be so clean."

"You said that you wanted to talk to me," Shawn said, shutting the door.

"Uh, yeah. I..." Juliet turned to look at Shawn, for the first time, and gasped. Even if she hadn't become so used to his new, slick, appearance, he looked bad. His dirt-stained clothes were disheveled and wrinkled; he looked more tired than she had ever seen him; and his hair, though still slicked back in some places, was also sticking up in others.

"You what?" Shawn prompted.

"You don't look well," Juliet said, her concern obvious.

"Well yeah...I had a fight with Gus," Shawn admitted.

"About the case?" Juliet guessed.

"Not you too," Shawn groaned.

"You used to be happy," Juliet said. With how bad Shawn looked, she hadn't the heart to start in on him, about some case.

"I'm happy now," Shawn said, rubbing his eyes.

"You don't look it."

"Well everyone has their off days," Shawn snapped.

"You don't have to," Juliet said softly.

"What?"

"Well, happiness is a decision you make. If you choose to, you could be happy all of the time."

"What, so you're saying that if I'm miserable, then it's my own fault." Shawn demanded in an angry growl.

"No," Juliet said, horrified. That wasn't even close to what she had meant. "What I mea–"

"No," Shawn interrupted, "just...get out. Just...please, go."

"Okay," Juliet said quietly, but before she left, she placed the case file on Shawn's coffee table.

A/N: Sorry that the chapter's so short. I had a choice of whether chapters 10,11, and 12 should be one long chapter and three short ones. As you can tell, I picked the latter and you will be getting chapter 12 shortly. Don't forget to review. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Karen Vick got back to her office, forty-five minutes later than what she had originally planned. She had wanted to go to Henry Spencer's house, and talk some sense into him. Get him to start helping her and everyone else, get Shawn back, but the conversation had not gone as planned.

– – – Flashback– – –

"Hello Karen," Henry said, opening his door so that the woman could come inside, "fancy seeing you here."

"We need to talk," Karen had said, getting straight to the point.

"About?" Henry asked, as if he didn't know.

"Shawn."

"Surprise, surprise," Henry said sarcastically.

"Do you even know what's going on with him right now? Why aren't you trying to help him?"

"Because all that he wants is a little attention. There are better ways of getting it."

"Henry, there's a difference between wanting attention and a cry for help. Guess which one this is? You need to do something."

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid," Henry snarled.

"Well somebody has to, because you're not doing anything. What kind of father let's his son go around in such an obvious state of distress for so long?"

"I know Shawn and he is fine!"

"Well obviously you don't know him as well as you think you do, because he is most definitely not fine!" Both adults were now shouting.

"Well you know what? If he can't be bothered in telling me the truth, then I can't be bothered in helping him."

"Henry," Karen said, lowering her voice, "I never would have thought that as good as a cop you were, that you were just that much worse a father."

Karen turned and started to leave.

"The kid thinks that he's psychic," Henry yelled after her.

"I don't care if he thinks that he's Madonna," Karen shouted, spinning back around to face Henry, "he still needs help."

With those last words she left.

– – – End Flashback– – –

"Chief?"

Being pulled out of her thoughts, Karen looked up to see Mr. Guster standing in her doorway.

"Aw, Mr. Guster," she said, waving the man inside her office, "how did things go with Shawn?"

"Not too well," Gus said with a small shake of his head, "we got into a fight. But Juliet just went to talk to him so..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

"I saw you leaving Shawn's Dad's house," Gus said after a moment of silence, "you looked...angry."

"I was. My talk with Henry did not go as I had hoped."

"What didn't go as you hoped?" Lassiter asked, entering the office, his arms heavy with different case files.

"My talk with Henry Spencer," Karen told him.

"Again with the Spencer's," Lassiter growled.

"Was there something that you needed?" Karen asked curtly.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "It can wait 'til later," he said.

"What can wait 'til later?" Juliet asked, entering the office.

"O'Hara," Karen said, before Lassiter had a chance to answer, "what happened? What did Shawn say?"

"He didn't really say anything," Juliet admitted, "Shawn looked really bad, so I just left the file there."

Karen groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I doubt that Shawn is going to read the case of his own accord," Gus said.

"I'll go talk to him tomorrow," Karen said. There was no use in trying again until then. To go at him three times in one day, might be much.

"I don't understand why you even bother," Lassiter said, "it's not like not having him is such a big loss."

"Don't you have some work to get done," Karen asked, an edge to her voice.

"Yes," he said stiffly, and he turned to leave, with Gus right behind him.

"I know you don't really feel that way," Gus said, once they were out of earshot, "because if you did, then you would have told the Chief that Shawn had admitted that he wasn't psychic."

Gus left before Lassiter could respond.

Lassiter couldn't focus on his work for the rest of the day. And he was suddenly more perceptive of the glares that were sent his way. Everyone in the station knew that he worked with Spencer more than everyone one else, and he knew that they all felt that he should try to bring him back. But that wasn't his job, and he wasn't going to go to Spencer, begging for him to come back to work. He just wasn't.

Driving home at the end of the day, Lassiter found himself taking a detour. He wasn't really sure why, or even where he was going. It almost felt as if his body was moving of it's own accord. He wasn't even sure that he had a destination, until he found himself parked outside the elder Spencer's house.

For a while Lassiter sat in his car, wondering what exactly it was that he was wanting to do. Again, he found his body moving of its own accord and a minute later he was knocking on the front door of Henry Spencer's house.

Lassiter had to wait only a moment, until the door swung open and he found himself face to face with a very irrate looking man.

"Why are you here?" Henry demanded, when he saw who was at his door.

"I wish I knew," Lassiter grumbled.

"Listen," Henry snapped, "if you're here to preach to me about my parenting skills, or yell at me for being a 'bad father' then I don't want to hear it."

Henry started to shut the door, but Lassiter stuck his foot in the way and then pulled it back open. He couldn't believe the disrespect that he 'Head Detective of the SBPD' had just been shown. And that's what fueled his speech.

"I don't like Spencer," Lassiter said to the glaring Henry, "he's loud, unruly and obnoxious. Not to mention he's disrespectful and is impossible to get rid of. And I don't know if he is really psychic or not, but he gets the job done and we...we," Lassiter nearly choked on the words, "need him," he finished, looking like he had just swallowed a lemon. "We need him," Lassiter continued on, "but something's wrong. Whether what he had seen was real or not, that doesn't matter, because what he's going through is real. And I know that you must be tired of people telling you to step it up and talk to your son and believe me, I don't believe in codling. But, coming from someone who never had much of a father, sometimes a father is all you need."

With nothing more to say, Lassiter turned around and left, not even bothering to wait and see if Henry had anything to say to him. He just got into his car and drove home. He didn't even notice the stunned look on Henry's face.

**A/N: Hey, told you you'd be getting this chapter soon. Hope you enjoyed it, yes I do realize that Shawn was not featured in this one. But the next chapter is going to be from Shawn's POV so we're even. But unfortunately the next chapter will take a bit of time getting out to you. But never fear, you will definitely get an update before the New Year. (Unless my computer crashes and I lose everything) Review :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here's the next chapter. Merry Christmas! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, that's okay, because this is a gift and you should always except gifts. Especially from a strange person like me. :D**

**_Italics are Shawn's thoughts._**

**Chapter 13**

Shawn didn't want to feel. Feeling hurt. As long as he was able to keep his emotions bottled up inside he was fine. As long as he didn't go to Psych and remember all of his happy times he was okay. As long as he didn't remember his cases he remained blissfully numb. As long as he didn't talk to his friends and family there was no pain. But the problem was, they talked to him. Shawn was never alone. Even when Gus wasn't in the store, he could feel his presence outside and waiting; yearning to talk to him, but thankfully refraining most of the time. He could also feel his father thinking about him. Most of the thoughts feeling angry.

No one understood, but the mind-numbing work that Shawn did at the store, helped him to forget. It was easy to forget when he was working, when he was at home cleaning. The menial tasks that had once felt like the bane of his existence, were now Shawn's safe-havens. But now Shawn was having trouble sleeping. He would wake in a cold sweat after his nightmares and wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.

Once that started happening, Shawn would take long showers. Ones that used up all of the hot water and continued on way after the water was as cold as ice. But even then, he found himself with extra time on his hands. Extra time was bad. Shawn had considered cleaning, but that was what he did when he got off from work. Finally he started doing the only thing that would come to his mind. He would iron his good shirts and dress pants. Then spend hours, meticulously doing his hair.

The first time that he had slicked his hair back, he had nearly gone into shock when he looked in the mirror. But after the first few days, the shock was gone and Shawn had one more thing that he didn't care about. That list was actually starting to grow long, now that hair, pineapples, his motorcycle, Psych, and helping people were gone. The more things that Shawn didn't care or think about, made his life that much easier.

Shawn never examined his life too closely. If he did, then he would snap out of it and lose all of his hard work, and the pain and the memories would come back. With every passing day, Shawn was becoming the type of person that he hated. He was slowly starting to stop playing the part and was becoming it. He was becoming someone dull and lifeless.

Shawn was willing to continue on down that path, because, after Gus was no longer allowed in the store, most of the time he was so out of it that he didn't notice. His life was starting to become like the last half of the first two weeks, right after Shawn had seen Jamison's murders. The first half had been spent in a state of depression where he couldn't move, couldn't eat, drink or sleep. But then his mind shut off and he was like a zombie, nothing more than some soulless creature. His movements mechanical and automatic. If his body realized that it needed food, then he would eat. If it needed to relieve itself then it would. At one point it realize that it needed money. It needed to work.

Shawn wasn't always completely immersed in his zombie-like state. He mostly was when he was at home, but less so when he was at work. At work he had enough of his mind to talk and act like normal, except he wasn't acting like normal. And he knew that he wasn't acting normal but at the same time...he did. Shawn couldn't explain it. The only time that he wasn't completely trapped within himself was when he was fighting with Gus. And Shawn would have to say that their worst fight was the one that they had that very day.

Shawn had been a little late leaving work. The lock on his locker had been jammed. Fortunately it hadn't taken him very long to get it to open. But he still set out towards his bus stop at a quick pace. At first Shawn had missed riding his bike, but soon he got used to the bus, just as he had gotten used to his hair.

Even though Shawn wasn't as aware as he had been before, he couldn't help but notice the small blue car that started following him, but he just continued looking ahead and didn't acknowledge it. Just a bit further and then he would be safe on the bus. Unfortunately the driver of the car called out to him. Shawn wanted to ignore the greeting, but a combination of knowing that it wouldn't work and having half of his brain still turned off, he answered.

"Hello Gus."

"So Shawn...do you want a ride?" Gus asked.

_A ride? In a car? Not on the bus? The bus! Oh gosh, what am I becoming? Gus help me. I'm spiraling and I can't stop._

As the thoughts came to Shawn, so did the pain. Quickly he cut them off.

"No thank y–" Shawn started to say, but stopped when he saw his bus drive away.

Shawn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What was he to do? He lived to far away to just walk. But he knew that Gus was wanting more than just to offer him a ride. Shawn didn't want to feel again. Even feeling for that brief moment it had hurt. But what else could he do? Even in his mindless state, Shawn was aware that he didn't like being alone outside.

"Yes please," Shawn was able to finally grit out.

Gus stopped the car, and Shawn hopped inside. He instantly regretted it. He could feel that Gus was planning on talking to him again. About what, he didn't know.

"So..." Gus said after a few minutes of silence, "we have a case."

_A case? Wait, no. Cases were bad. __Cases hurt._

"Let me out," Shawn commanded.

"Wait Shawn, just hear me out."

"NO!" Shawn didn't want to feel, didn't want to remember. Gus couldn't make him. "You can't just kidnap someone and expect–"

"Wait, kidnap?" Gus interrupted. "I didn't kidnap you, you got into the car of your own accord."

Did it matter? Gus had no right to do this to him. Why wouldn't he leave him alone.

"Oh, so if you let someone into your house and they take your stuff that's fine. That's not stealing?" Shawn said, trying to make a point.

"Shawn this is a completely different situation."

"No it's not, so let me out."

Shawn's mind was starting to come out of the fog. He was starting to think clearly. That wasn't good. He had to go.

Suddenly Gus pulled off the road and into a parking lot.

"You're not going anywhere until you've heard me out," Gus said, locking the doors.

Like locked doors could stop him. Why didn't Gus realize that Shawn just couldn't get over what happened. Some scars run just to deep. Why was he trying to hurt him so much?

"Yeah, like this is going to hold me," Shawn said, pressing the button to release his lock.

To Shawn's surprise Gus re-locked the door. Then he pulled a manilla folder from the back seat and started waving it in Shawn's face as he talked.

"Her name is Cammy," Gus said, "she is five years old and she disappeared from the back of her house two days ago. No one knows what exactly happened or who could have taken her, but it could have been anyone, because there had just been a funeral for her cousin, who was the same age, and there were people everywhere.

"Shawn this is right up your alley. All you need is something of the girl's and you'll be able to feel where she is."

Shawn needed this to end now. Just the thought of trying to use his powers again made his throat constrict and his breaths shorten. He couldn't...he couldn't...

"Gus, I am not psychic," Shawn made eye contact, so that his friend would know that he was serious. That he wanted him to stop. "I don't know where this silly notion of yours came from, but it needs to go. This is a job for the police."

"Who are you trying to kid?" Gus shouted, "we both know that you're psychic, why are you denying it?"

How could Gus not get it? How could he not understand?

"Because if I was psychic, why would I want to feel the pain of a little girl. What type of friend are you, for wanting that for me?" Shawn could feel the tears forming in his eyes.

_Oh no, oh no. This was bad._

"I'm the type that wants my old friend back," Gus whispered.

Shawn wanted to cry. Everything was becoming to much again.

"Listen Shawn, you don't have to use your powers. You can solve the case the way you used to. Just come back."

Come back? How could he come back? How could he ever deal with what he had been forced to see? What he witnessed every single _freaking_ day since he got his powers. Shawn had always been able to get through his work before, because he was able to sympathize, _not_ empathize.

Gus touch Shawn's arm, and Shawn was suddenly bombarded with thoughts and feelings that weren't his. The emotional overload was too much.

"Don't touch me," Shawn snarled. "Don't ever touch me!"

"Why?" Gus shouted back, but Shawn wasn't listening. Everything was back. Everything! His wants, feelings, mind, and...powers. Oh gosh. They were back. They were back and felt just as strong as they had when Shawn had first discovered them. And Gus...why was he still talking?

"Shut up!"

"Shawn, you can do amazing things, you can help this girl. You need to help this girl, you may be the only one who can."

Shawn gave a sardonic snort, he didn't care anymore, he just had to get out of there. "Is this where you say, 'with great powers come great responsibility'?" he asked.

"You know what? It is. If you have the opportunity and means for helping someone, and you don't, then that is just as good as killing them. If this little girl dies, it's your fault."

If what Gus was saying was true, then Shawn was to blame for more than just this one possible murder. Other places, other times. Just because you could save someone didn't always mean that you were able to. He didn't need that. He didn't need to feel the weight of anyone else's burdens. He couldn't save everyone, and he felt that even more so at that moment.

Giving another sardonic snort, Shawn said, "it's just one more thing to a long list."

Then, unlocking the door, Shawn left.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going. Shawn's mind was to preoccupied with everything, to focus on that. Now that he was feeling again, his depression was starting to sink back into him. Slowly his breathing became more difficult. He had to get home. It wasn't safe for him out on the streets. For the first time Shawn took in his surroundings and had a full blown panic attack.

Where was he? Spinning around, Shawn looked about the streets frantically. He didn't know where he was. He didn't recognize the people walking around him. The atmosphere was wrong. It wasn't the one that he had become accustomed to. Nothing was familiar. And there were spirits here. Someone had died. They wanted him. They wanted help. Shawn could feel them pulling at him. They wanted him. He was going to be taken again.

Tears started to come up into Shawn's eyes.

"No!" he yelled. They weren't going to take him.

Grabbing at his hair, Shawn stumbled backwards into a wall. Upon hitting it, he bounced forward and collapsed onto his knees. Crouching in the fetal position, Shawn tried to calm his quickening breath.

"Excuse me sir, are you alright?"

Shawn looked up and, through blurry eyes, saw someone staring at him. He didn't know that person. What did she want? He could feel her thoughts and not all of them were good. Were the bad thoughts directed at him? What was she wanting? What was she planning.

"Get away," Shawn shouted, lurching to his feet and sprinting down the street.

He had to get away. Get somewhere safe. He wasn't safe. Needed home. Where was home? Pain. Pain. Oh the pain. Emotion. Hurt. It needed it stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Why couldn't he just die? Why? Why?

Shawn collapsed. Landing on his hands and knees, but he instantly buckled and rolled to his side. He was on sand. Sand? The beach! Shawn looked around and nearly cried out with joy, when he recognized where he was. He was near home. He'd be safe soon. Gasping back tears, he stood up and stumbled off of the beach and onto the streets. Home was close, so close. He could feel it.

The relief was overwhelming. So overwhelming that tears started to burn in his eyes again. Shawn fell a few more times as he drew nearer to his apartment, but he kept going and was finally rewarded for his efforts as he unlocked the door of his apartment and collapsed inside.

Safe. He was finally safe. But not for long. Soon the relief left, leaving Shawn feeling everything that he had been trying to block out for nearly a month. All of his hard work was down the drain, because he couldn't seem to muster us enough strength to make his feelings disappear again. He tried everything. He vacuumed; he re-washed the walls; he polished the coffee table. Nothing worked.

Shawn had just decided that he should try cleaning behind the refrigerator, again, when he collapsed. He couldn't breathe and he hurt everywhere. He hurt physically and emotionally. He couldn't move. In fact, Shawn didn't care if he ever moved again. Moving was just to much work, but dying wasn't. He could just lay on the floor of his apartment forever and waste away. He'd be dead in three days if he didn't drink. Three days wouldn't be bad. It wasn't too long of a wait.

Shawn's train of thought suddenly stopped as a wonderful and familiar presence enveloped him. Juliet was there. She was almost at the door and she wanted to talk to him. But Shawn could feel what it was that she wanted to say and that diminished his short lived peace, making his depression come back feeling ten times worse.

There was a knock at the door, but Shawn ignored it. He wanted her to go away, he didn't want to talk about the case. About the missing little girl. No, if he was quiet, then she would go away.

She didn't. She knocked again and Shawn was overcome with her desire to talk with him. He didn't want to talk to her, but her desire was so strong that Shawn felt himself struggling to stand and stumbling over to the door. He nearly fell, but caught himself on the door knob. Shawn wanted to ignore her so badly, but couldn't. So when she started to knock again, he answered.

"Yes?"

"Shawn, is that you?" he heard Juliet ask and he couldn't stop himself from thinking, _who else would be here?_

"What do you want?" Shawn's asked even though he already knew.

"I wanted to talk with you. Can I come in?"

Shawn didn't want to let her in, but he was already broken, so what did it matter? Slowly he opened the door, being careful not to fall seeing as the door was what was holding him up. As Juliet stepped inside, Shawn felt her surprise at how clean his house was. Then she confirmed her thoughts with words.

"Wow," Juliet said, "I never would have imagined your home to be so clean."

"You said that you wanted to talk to me," Shawn said as he shut the door. He didn't want small talk. He wanted her to say her peace and then get out as soon as humanly possible.

"Uh, yeah. I..." Juliet trailed off and then gasped. It made Shawn wonder exactly just how bad he looked.

"You what?" he prompted. Why was she taking so long? Why was she making him feel her worry for him? Didn't she know that it made him hurt?

"You don't look well," Juliet said, stating the obvious. Not only did he not look well, but he did not feel well. He hadn't felt well in a while.

"Well yeah...I had a fight with Gus," Shawn wasn't sure why he told her that. Maybe because he was finding himself not caring anymore. Or maybe it was just Juliet herself.

"About the case?" she guessed.

"Not you too," Shawn groaned. It didn't matter that he already knew what she was wanting to talk about, because it didn't make it any easier when the actual talk commenced.

"You used to be happy," Juliet said, her thoughts suddenly changing, just as they did before and always would. Luckily though, Shawn was used to the changes so he was able to answer right away.

"I'm happy now."

Goodness he was tired.

"You don't look it."

Obviously he didn't look it.

"Well everyone has their off days."

Why was she still here and making everything that much harder?

"You don't have to," Juliet said so quietly that Shawn almost missed it.

"What?"

"Well, happiness is a decision you make. If you choose to, you could be happy all of the time."

Juliet had no idea of the nerve that she struck. Happiness had always been a choice that Shawn had always made throughout his life. Living with a father like his, Shawn knew how easy it would be, to just be bitter. He knew that his life wasn't exactly ideal either. Moving from one place to another, almost always broke, dating one girl after another trying to find the right one and deep down being to afraid to take any relationship to seriously, for fear of ending up like his parents. Shawn could very easily have given up and been an angry person. Instead, he always looked for a silver lining, he always found a reason to laugh and if there wasn't anyway to make a situation good, then he would just smile until it didn't feel so bad. But he couldn't do that here. He couldn't make himself happy and he didn't appreciate Juliet making him feel like things were bad only because_ he_ wasn't trying. Because he chose to feel this way.

"What, so you're saying that if I'm miserable, then it's my own fault."

"No," Juliet said, and Shawn could feel how terrible she felt. "What I mea–"

"No," he interrupted, he felt bad enough without Juliet adding her feelings to the mix. Shawn knew that she cared, he knew that all of them cared, but now more than ever, he just needed to be alone.

"Just...get out. Just...please, go," Shawn felt like he was begging, but it worked.

"Okay," Juliet said quietly, but before she left, she placed the case file on his coffee table.

Once she was gone, Shawn's knees buckled out from under him and he hit the floor with a thud. His breathing was ragged and he felt like he had just ran a marathon. Talking with Juliet had taken more out of him than he had thought it would. It didn't help that she had left the case file there. In his home. Taunting him.

Long after Juliet was gone, Shawn found himself still staring at the file. He had been staring at it since Juliet left, but he still couldn't make himself look at it. And why should he? It wasn't his job, despite what others thought.

Even as Shawn talked himself out of what he knew his responsibilities to be, he found himself drawing closer to it. He didn't stop until he was sitting at his coffee table and his hands were resting mere inches from it. He couldn't look at it. He wouldn't look at it.

Shawn drew in a deep breath of the salty ocean air and then let out a contented sigh. He loved the beach, but he could hardly go there anymore, because of all of the people that were constantly there. Ever since he got his powers he couldn't go there and be at peace. But not today. Today there was no one else at the beach, he was all alone and enjoying every minute of it. Shawn was happy to be able to just sit back in the sand and listen to the waves crash.

Stretching out, much like a cat, Shawn stood up and started to walk along the long stretch of beach, keeping close to the water, but not close enough to touch it. Shawn was happy. Happier than what he had been for a while, because he knew that he wasn't going to run into Gus or Juliet. He knew that they were going to leave him alone.

As Shawn walked he noticed a smooth rock sticking halfway out of the sand. Bending down, he picked up the circular rock and then held it in the flat of his palm. He stared at it a minute, before turning to the water and throwing the rock into it. He knew that the water was to rough for the rock to skip, but it didn't matter, it was still fun to see how far out the rock would go.

"You're doing it wrong."

Shawn jumped at the sudden voice and turned to face the one person that he had least expected to see.

"Hello Dad," Shawn said sarcastically, "nice to see you too."

"Don't use that tone with me," Henry said, crossing his arms across his chest, "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Shawn muttered as he picked up another rock and just threw it into the water and it hit with a wet thunk. This time Shawn made sure that his posture was bad, just to tick his father off.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Shawn asked, annoyed that he didn't get a rise out of his father.

"I came to talk," Henry admitted.

"Great," Shawn said, his tone tired and irritated, "just what I need. Another talk, from another person who thinks that I've messed up. Tell me, who convinced you to come? Because I can tell you that I have no doubt that you didn't come here of your own free will."

"If you must know, it was Head Detective Lassiter that got to me."

"Great. Remind me to send him something horrible, like a fruit-basket that doesn't have pineapple, or a tin full of broccoli."

"Shawn..." Henry said, his tone warning.

"What, too immature for you?" Shawn interrupted.

Never one to beat around the bush, Henry dove right in. "Shawn, Gus told me what was going on with you. He told me that you are psychic."

Shawn froze. Had he heard right? His father knew? And Shawn wasn't in some institution?

"I really didn't want to believe it, but the other options were much worse," Henry continued sternly. "Besides, I'm a logical man, and this is where the logic points."

"Are you serious?" Shawn asked, turning to face his father, "you seriously believe that I'm psychic?"

"Unwillingly, yes."

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "of all the times, of all the things, he picks now to believe me."

"What?"

"Nothing," Shawn said quickly. "So...is there anything that you want to know, or wanted to say?"

"Yes, there are a few things that I'd like to say, but there's something that I've got to know: Gus said that you hit your head and got your powers; is that _exactly_ what happened?"

"I electrocuted myself, and then hit my head," Shawn said.

"Well that'd definitely do something to you," Henry breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The two men stood in silence for a moment.

"So, you said that you wanted to talk about something," Shawn prompted, starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence.

"Yes," Henry said, coming up and standing beside Shawn, both men faced the ocean. "They're trying to get you to help on a case, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Shawn said with a grimace, "they tell you?"

"No, I've been in the precinct long enough to know how they deal with cases like yours."

"Cases like mine?" Shawn asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes, cases like yours. Ones where you see something bad and can't accept it and can't come back to work. You see, the idea of what Gus and the others are doing is correct. You can't get better if you don't come back to work and face what hurt you head on. But in their eagerness, they seem to have missed something important."

"What'd they miss?" Shawn asked, unable to stop himself from being curious.

"That you haven't taken the first step." At Shawn's confused look Henry elaborated, "the first step in getting better, is admitting and accepting what happened and what you saw. The second is coming back. You have neither admitted, nor accepted what happened."

Shawn gave is father an incredulous glare. "I know what happened," he said, his voice hard, "I remember it very well."

"Remembering and accepting are two totally different things," Henry said, giving his son a long look.

"What would you know?" Shawn shouted, spinning to face his father head on, "you weren't there. You didn't see it."

"See what?" Henry challenged, his voice cool and calm.

"Oh no," Shawn said, backing away, "I see what you're trying to do and it won't work. I'm not talking to you. I'll never talk to you, because you won't listen and it won't work!"

"How do you know it won't work?" Henry asked, his tone still annoyingly calm. "How do you know that talking it out won't make it feel better? Have you tried?"

"I don't need to try," Shawn yelled. "Why should I trust you?"

Henry looked Shawn straight in the eyes and said, "sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith and trust that I'm here to catch you. Let me catch you Shawn," he whispered.

Shawn felt his barriers dissolve and break and he suddenly found himself launching into Henry's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"They made me watch," Shawn wailed as Henry wrapped his arms around his son and lowered them both to the ground. "I c–couldn't get...get away. They he–held me too, too tightly. I saw him...him kill them all. All...all seven of them."

Shawn's hands balled into fists around the material of Henry's shirt. "I can still hear them scream," he whispered, his voice soft and haunted, "I...I can still see...see the t–terror in their eyes as...as he killed them...as he tortured them."

Shawn buried his face into his father's chest. "I smell their blood. I couldn't block it out...they wouldn't let me. I could taste it in my mouth. I still can," Shawn choked out, before he started crying again.

"I could feel his pleasure," Shawn screamed, "and I could feel their pain and their fear. I could feel them die! As he tore them limb from limb I felt it too. I felt everything that they felt and more." Shawn's breathing increased, "some...sometimes, I...I wasn't sure if–if I was me...or them...or him... And I can never forget. I never forget anything," choking on his last words, Shawn began to sob uncontrollably.

Henry continued to hold Shawn, rocking him back and forth a little.

"You did good kiddo," Henry said gently as he rubbed his son's back, "and now you can let go."

"It hurts," Shawn sobbed.

"I know it does," Henry said, tightening his grip around Shawn, "but it always hurts worse before it gets better. And now that you've taken the first step, you can go back to work."

"I can't."

"Yes you can," Henry held Shawn out at arms length. "You need to. I know you can do it."

Keeping one hand on Shawn's shoulder, Henry reached behind him a picked up a manila folder. He held it out for Shawn.

"She needs you now and I know you can help her."

Shawn slowly reached out and grabbed the file.

Shawn's eyes snapped open and for a confused minute he found himself laying with his face plastered on his coffee table. Slowly he straightened up and looked around his living room. He blinked a couple of times.

What had happened? How did he get into his living room? Hadn't he been at the beach? Shawn shifted his position a little and felt something move under his hand. He looked down and found that his hand had been resting on the file. The file that Juliet had left there earlier, and didn't appear to have moved from.

Moving with a speed that Shawn was sure that he had lost, he ran over to the front door and threw it open. He was instantly met with sunlight.

Shawn gasped. It was morning. He had fallen asleep. But that meant that... Shawn shook his head. But it was real. He was sure of it. Even though he had been asleep he had spoken with his father. Subconscious to subconscious. And you know what? Shawn felt better than he had in a long time.

Quickly, Shawn dashed back into his apartment and over to his phone. Picking it up he dialed a familiar number. The phone rang about seven times before it was answered.

"I was sleeping Shawn," Henry's voice growled into the phone, he had checked his caller-i.d. before answering the phone.

"I know," Shawn said cheerily, "and I just wanted to say thank you. Doubt you remember, but you were really helpful. I'll also be sure to tell the others so that they'll get off your back. Bye."

"Wait? What are you talking about Shawn? Shawn!"

Shawn closed his phone, ignoring his father's shouts and looked down at his watch. Crap, he had to get ready.

Gus didn't have work today, so instead he decided that he was going to hang out at the police station and see if Chief Vick could make any headway with Shawn.

"You're here early," Juliet commented, coming over to Gus and handing him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he said. He took a sip and sighed, though it wasn't a sigh of contentment.

"Mr. Guster, surely you have something better to do, than to hang around here until I talk to Shawn," Chief Vick said from the doorway of her office. Her break wasn't for another four hours and that was when she was planning on talking to him. But if she wasn't able to get through to him, then there would be nothing left that they could do.

"I still don't understand why you want Spencer here," Lassiter said, coming over to the group.

"Because everyone misses him," Juliet said, "and I know you do too."

"Me?" Lassiter said incredulously. "Why would I miss _that_ thorn in my side?"

"Because he's an amazingly fun thorn with great hair."

For a second everything in the precinct was silent.

Slowly Gus turned around to see his best friend standing behind him, wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans, his hair no long slicked back.

"Miss me?" Shawn smirked.

A/N: Hey, so i hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had a heck of a time writing it out. Remember I: love reviews; hate flames; and wish for peas on earth and good will to hens. Happy New Year, I will see you in 2008. ;D


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Yay

A/N: Yay! Look, you only had to wait a couple of months for this updation. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry for the wait. But if it helps, here is the explanation that I have been wanting to give you. Our computer had broken, so I didn't have any access to Fanfic. Now, obviously, I have a computer again, but once I did get my computer back, I wanted to finish my book. And now my book is 300 pages and done…for now. Anywho, enjoy. ;D

It was almost as if the world had stopped. There were over twenty people in the precinct and not one of them moved. Not one of them breathed. They all merely stared at Shawn in shock, though that shock quickly elapsed into joy and the spell was broken when Gus ran over to Shawn and pulled him into a tight hug.

The physical contact made Shawn flinch, but he endured the hug for his friend. He could feel how badly Gus needed this. Gus needed the hug more than Shawn did, but considering Gus's diligence, he had earned at least that much.

Once Gus finally let Shawn go, Juliet came over and gave Shawn a quick but gentle hug and told him how glad she was to see him back. Still feeling awkward and like his social skills had rusted, like he had left it out in the rain, Shawn gave Juliet a quick nod and a small smile.

"It's good to have you back, Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick said, keeping professional and not swooping down and hugging Shawn as she wished to.

Shawn replied with another nod and then turned to face Lassiter who, though glowering at him, was also glad that he was back. Of course he would never admit it, not even under torture.

"Shawn, what made you change your mind?" Gus asked.

"My dad," Shawn replied with a shrug. "Thanks for talking to him Lassie."

"I did nothing of the sort," Lassiter instantly denied.

Shawn smirked, but didn't pursue the subject. Turning to the chief, he held up the manila case file. "I'm going to need to go and talk to this girl's parents," he said.

"Of course," Chief Vick nodded. "Will you need O'Hara or Lassiter to accompany you?"

"No," Shawn shook his head, "just Gus. We'll call you if I get anything."

Neither Shawn nor Gus said a word as they left the police station and got into Gus's blue company car.

"Are you sure that you're ready for this?" Gus asked as they pulled out into traffic.

"No," Shawn whispered, sounding nervous, "but I have to do this. This is what, the girl's third day missing? The window of opportunity to save her is closing."

"How do you plan on doing this?" Gus asked as he recalled from memory, the address of the girl's house.

Shawn took a deep breath and thought.

"The old way," he finally said. "I don't know if I can use my powers."

Gus nodded silently, but didn't say anything else. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

The house was small, though well kept. The front yard had a large flower garden that wrapped the whole way around the house. The house looked like it had been given a fresh coat of white paint recently and the porch was partially painted a light blue color. It was half finished, like something had come up, preventing the owners from finishing. Three guesses as to what that "something" could have been.

As the two men waited at the front door, after ringing the bell, Shawn did his best to compose himself. The sorrow that he felt coming from the house was almost suffocating.

With a slight squeak, the door opened, revealing a young man. He looked no older than Shawn or Gus. His short, sandy hair stuck up at odd angles, the clothes that he wore were crumpled, as if he hadn't changed them in a few days, and large dark circles sat under his eyes, aging him almost ten years.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Mr. Glendale, hi," Shawn said, speaking in a professional manner, "I am Shawn Spencer, Head psychic at the SBPD, and this is my associate Burton Guster. The Chief sent us down to talk to you."

"Yes," Mr. Glendale said, blinking a few times to clear his thoughts, "I just got off the phone with her. Come in."

Stepping aside, the bedraggled father allowed the two men to come inside. The inside of the house was clean. Very clean. The wooden coffee table and bookshelf were polished so much that they gleamed. The books on the shelves were straight and ordered from largest to smallest and not a speck of dust could be seen. Truthfully, the house was reminiscent of someone else's apartment.

Gus gave Shawn a sidelong glance. Shawn shrugged in reply.

"A bit disconcerting isn't it?"

Shawn and Gus turned to see a young woman standing off to one side of the room, a duster in her hand. She looked just as bad as her husband.

"The house has never been so clean," the woman went on to say, "but I can't seem to stop. The only room I haven't been able to touch is…Cammy's," her voice broke.

"Everything will be all right," Shawn assured her, hoping that he sounded convincing. "Why don't you show me where it happened."

As Shawn was shown through the house and backyard, while being taken through the events that occurred right before the kidnapping, he wasn't able to pick up on anything. Everything had been cleaned, even the back yard. The small things that Shawn might have been able to pick up on, that the police never seemed to be able to, had been washed away.

"Excuse me for a moment, while I go and confer with my partner," Shawn said to the grief-stricken parents, once they were back in the living room. Pulling Gus off to the side, Shawn whispered, "I can't find anything."

"Are you sure?" Gus asked.

"Positive," Shawn said, casting a quick glance at the two parents, who at the moment were hugging each other. "I think maybe…" he trailed off, biting his lip.

"What?" Gus asked.

"Maybe…" Shawn looked at the parents again, "I think that I need to go into the girl's…into Cammy's room, and get something of hers."

"Can you handle that?" Gus looked at his friend in worry.

"I guess we'll see," Shawn replied with a weak smile.

Giving his friend a nod, Gus went over to Mr. Glendale and talked to him. After about five minutes, the two men seemed to come to an agreement and came back over to Shawn.

"Her room's this way," he said, leading the two men down the hall and into a room.

The room that they entered, was very much the room of a five year old girl. Almost every inch of the white walls were covered in something pink. The puffy comforter, which lay askew on the bed, was covered in pink flowers and lace. And the room was almost brimming with stuffed animals that, though appeared to just be scatted about, if looked at closely, actually seemed to have a pattern to were they lay; showing the care in which the girl took, to keep her toys safe.

"Here," Mr. Glendale said, walking over to a small white desk that was covered in sparkly stickers. Bending down, he opened up a small jewelry box and, gently, he lifted out a long pink ribbon. "Your partner here, said that you needed something of Cammy's. Something that she loved…loves. She's worn this ribbon almost everyday since she got almost seven months ago. We didn't let her where it to the funeral," his voice broke and tears started to well up in his eyes. "Here."

Almost reluctantly, Mr. Glendale held up the carefully folded ribbon to Shawn. And, visibly reluctant, Shawn held his hand out to take it. Shawn couldn't recall being so nervous in his life. What would he feel when he touched the ribbon?

Gently Shawn, closing his eyes, took the ribbon into his hands, and squeezed them shut. Suddenly his eyes snapped open.

He felt nothing.

A/N: Well, there's the chapter, I hope you enjoyed and, as usual, I ask you for reviews. Also, and this is important, I am going to be on vacation for the next week, so I will be unable to work on my fanfic. Oh well, considering that I'm the author, you're all probably used to waiting. I'll try to update soon though. There are, after all, only a few chapters left.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Yay

A/N: wow, two chapter in a row…this never happens.

Chapter Fifteen

"Shawn, is everything okay?" Gus asked worriedly, when he saw the expression on his friend's face.

"What? Oh, yeah…I'm fine," Shawn said, struggling to keep his voice cool as he pocketed the ribbon. "Thank you Mr. Glendale. We'll be in touch soon."

"No," Mr. Glendale said, "Thank you."

"Okay, what's wrong?" Gus demanded, once they were out of the house and headed for his car.

"Not here," Shawn said, staring ahead.

Gus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, but didn't say anything else, until they got back to Psych.

"Will you tell me what the problem is now?" Gus asked, going over and sitting at his desk.

"I can't feel her," Shawn said, desperation in his tone and worry in his eyes. He pulled the ribbon out of his pocket and waved it in front of Gus's face.

"Does that mean she's…" Gus couldn't finish the sentence.

"I don't know," Shawn said, pulling away and running his hand through his hair. Holding the pink ribbon tightly in his fist, Shawn sat down on top of his desk. "I don't know," he repeated quietly. Then he continued talking, almost as if to himself, "Usually I can feel if someone is dead or not. Death has it's own feel…but this… There's nothing."

"Have you…" Gus had an idea of what might be going on, it was worth a shot at the very least. "Have you tried feeling anyone through their clothing since…you know?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Shawn asked, looking up at his friend.

"Well," Gus said, choosing his words carefully, "maybe the problem is psychological."

"You've got to be kidding me," Shawn groaned.

"No really," Gus said, jumping up from his chair. Quickly he loosened the tie he was wearing and then, taking it off, held it out to Shawn.

"What exactly is it that you're wanting me to do?" Shawn asked, eyeing the blue tie, but not taking it.

"Just take it," Gus said, trying not to sound to irritated.

Shawn took one more look at the tie, before he set the ribbon down next to him and took Gus's tie. He gasped.

"Gus," Shawn blinked a couple of times, "nothing. I don't feel anything."

Gus smiled like he had just figured out something big.

"But what's that supposed to mean," Shawn yelled, not meaning to get angry, as he threw the tie back at Gus.

"It means," Gus said, ignoring his friend's outburst, "that you are either A) loosing your powers, or B) you're not feeling anything on purpose."

"What?" Shawn asked, not really sure of what Gus meant.

"You're mind is a powerful thing, like I need to tell you that, and, well you've heard of the saying 'mind over matter' right? Well, if you still have your powers, then maybe you don't want to 'feel' so badly, that your mind has made it so that you can't."

"But I want to _'feel'_," Shawn countered. " _'Feeling'_ is the only way I'll be able to find the girl."

"Yeah," Gus argued, "but subconsciously you still really don't want to do this."

"But I do," Shawn yelled.

"Well obviously you don't," Gus shouted back, "because if you did, then you would be able to feel where she is. Shawn," he was no longer shouting, "your brain isn't going to let you 'feel' again, because deep down you really don't want to, and this is your body's way of protecting yourself."

"What about my body's way of protecting her?"

"…"

"…"

"Maybe you just lost your powers then," Gus shrugged, going for another tactic.

"No," Shawn said, shaking his head earnestly, "trust me, they're still here."

"Do you really want to feel her?" Gus asked, picking up the ribbon and holding it in front of Shawn.

Shawn stared at the ribbon for a moment, before he took it from Gus. "Yeah," he said, "I'm sure." And then Shawn tied the pink ribbon around his wrist.

"You getting anything?"

Shawn shook his head sadly.

"Let's go back to the station," Gus suggested, "maybe we can help them there."

With a nod of agreement, Shawn followed Gus out to his car and they drove back to the station.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -

"Shawn," Juliet greeted when she saw the two men enter the building, "did you get anything."

"Unfortunately no," Shawn admitted running a hand through his hair.

When Juliet caught sight of the pink ribbon that was tied around Shawn's wrist, she almost asked him what that was about, but changed her mind at the last second.

"So, has anyone been able to get a hold of the uncle?" Shawn asked after an uncomfortable silence had stretched for a minute.

"No, but we checked with the airlines," Juliet shook her head, "and he did get on the plane."

"And," Lassiter said, coming over to the group, "to answer what is inevitably your next question, the uncle's plane left hours before the girl disappeared."

"That's all I wanted to know," Shawn said.

"What the hell is on your wrist?" Lassiter asked, upon seeing the strip of bright pink cloth.

"What," Shawn asked, "you don't like it? I think that it brings my whole look together. Jules, what do you think?"

"Uh…" she didn't respond quick enough.

"Really Lassie, you don't have to be jealous. We can find something pink for you to wear too."

"He's just trying to get a reading from it," Gus said quickly, stepping between the two men.

"Oh, yeah," Lassiter asked, his tone a bit harsh than he had actually meant (yes he hadn't meant to be to mean to the psychic) "and how's that working out for you?"

For a moment Shawn's whole face went blank. The same blank that it had gone before he disappeared for two weeks. But the moment passed and it was gone.

"Let's take another look at the files and see what I get," Shawn suggested, his tone a bit cooler than what it had been a moment ago.

Shawn and his three companions (Lassiter had threatened to kill him if he continued calling them his three buddies) worked well pass working hours. It was three in the morning when the chief, who had things of her own that she had to do, came out of her office and told all of them to go home and get some sleep.

Reluctantly, they did. Well, most of them. Shawn had Gus drop him off at Psych so that he could work a bit longer and Gus, who was to tired to argue, did so.

It was going on four in the morning, and Shawn was still awake. The case file and any other information that he could possibly even think about wanting, was spread out on his desk in front of him. But Shawn wasn't looking at anything that lay on his desk. No, he was staring at the pink ribbon on his wrist.

Why couldn't he feel the girl? Why couldn't he feel Cammy? Was he really blocking himself? No matter how many times Shawn had told himself that he wanted to feel the girl, he never did. Time was running out, he needed to do something.

Without meaning to, Shawn slowly found himself falling asleep. When he woke up, he was in a field of flowers.

A/N: Dun, dun, dun. Hm, randomly waking up somewhere random…wonder what that could mean. Hey only a few chapters left, please review, they make me happy.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Here's the next chapter. Smile even though it's short. :D

Well…this was strange. Shawn couldn't recall _any_ place that he had been to, that had this many flowers. There were small pink flowers and blue ones and purple ones. Not to mention a couple of white ones. All of which sat against the lovely green backdrop of light emerald colored grass. The whole field was bright too. The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn't too warm, and despite Shawn not being able to feel any breeze, the large cotton-ball like clouds floated lazily across the sky.

As Shawn scanned the field, he caught sight of someone a little ways off. Being a little wary, because he had no idea of where he was, Shawn approached the person. All traces of hesitation dropped when he got close enough to see who the person was.

It was a young girl. She was five, Shawn was pretty sure, even though he couldn't see her face because she was staring at the ground, weaving some flowers together. She had long, golden blond hair, that shone brightly in the sunlight. She was also wearing a frilly pink, princess dress.

Moving slowly, so as not to scare the girl…so as not to scare Cammy, Shawn sat down next to her.

"Hi," Shawn said quietly, Cammy did not look up at him, but continued to weave her flowers, "I'm Shawn. You must be Cammy. How—how are you doing?"

"Will you be my friend?" Cammy asked, her voice soft. She still didn't look at Shawn.

"Sure," Shawn said, feeling his stomach start to knot.

Suddenly, right in front of Shawn, a flower bloomed. It looked like an open rose, except for the fact that it was gold…all of it, even the stem and leaves.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, Cammy reached over, and picked the flower. Then she held it out to Shawn.

"Thanks," Shawn said, taking the flower from the small girl.

"We're going to go soon," Cammy said quietly, her small fists tightening around the flowers that she held.

For a moment, the field…the sky…everything, flickered out and suddenly Shawn and Cammy were sitting in a basement. The floor was covered in dirt, there were no windows, and Cammy was wearing the ugly black dress that she had been kidnapped in. Then, just as quickly as the image had come, it disappeared and they were both back in the field.

"Will you help me?" Cammy asked, finally looking up at Shawn. Her bright blue eyes were shinning with tears and a light purple bruise lay on her porcelain cheek.

"Yes," Shawn breathed.

"Hurry."

--

With a start, Shawn woke up. He was back in Psych, with his head resting on his desk. Slowly he lifted his head, a pieced of paper coming with it. Peeling it off, he set it on the desk and looked down at his wrist and the ribbon that was tied to it. He could feel Cammy and he knew where she was. And he needed to hurry.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So, I'm almost done, only a few chapters left.**

"Gus, I know where she is," Shawn yelled quickly into the phone, before Gus could even utter a 'hello.' "It was the uncle," Shawn continued, not giving Gus a chance to speak. "Overcome with the grief about losing his only daughter, he snapped and took his niece."

"But the airport has on record that he got on the plane," Gus was about to say, before Shawn gave him an answer to that too.

"The uncle, what was it, John? He did everything short of actually getting on the plane. He was probably just about to, when he broke down and realized that he wanted to be with his family. But when he got back to his brother's house, and saw Cammy, he became delusional and, believing that Cammy was his little Rebecca, he took her. I'm headed to where they're hiding now, but we have to hurry, because they're going to move. He doesn't feel safe keeping Cammy where she is, and they're leaving."

"Where are they hiding?" Gus asked. Through Shawn's explanation he had quickly excused himself from his office and was getting into his car, ready to pick Shawn up.

"There's this old abandoned cabin in the mountains, not too terribly far away. It's a good solid two hour drive though."

"Okay, I'm ready," Gus said, starting his car and starting out of the parking lot, "You're at Psych right? I'll come and get you and we can swing by the police station, and tell them what you know."

"Uh…"

Gus didn't like the sound of that.

"Shawn," Gus said warningly, wary of what his friend might tell him.

"There was no time to lose," Shawn said, his tone implying that he didn't want to have to defend himself.

"Shawn," Gus said again, "where are you right now."

"The highway," Shawn answered after a moment's pause.

"The what!"

"Yeah, I should probably hang up now. I need to get my helmet on."

"You're driving down the highway, on your bike, without a helmet?" Gus demanded angrily. Was his friend really that stupid?

"No," Shawn's voice came from over the phone, "and I have my helmet with me, it's just not on me. I needed to call you first."

"How can you even talk on the phone while riding your bike?"

"Well…it's not easy."

"Shawn—"

"Hang on," Shawn shouted, and for a moment, his voice disappeared and was replaced by the sound on an angry blaring horn.

"Shawn," Gus repeated, this time with worry.

"Sorry, about that," Shawn said, coming back on. "Now listen closely while I give you the instructions to the cabin, you're going to have to be the one to go the police."

Gus didn't like it, but he listened to the instructions that Shawn gave him, committing them to memory and then the moment that his friend had hung up, Gus called the police station.

Once he had hung up on Gus, Shawn quickly pulled over and unhooked his helmet from where it was secured to the bike, and put it on. He was back on the road, not thirty seconds later. Shawn knew that part of his urge to hurry, came from Cammy, and the fact that the pink ribbon was still tied around his wrist, but he couldn't bring himself to take the ribbon off. This little girl was scared and confused. Her uncle had taken her from her home, locked her in some sort of cellar, and kept calling her by the name of her dead cousin. She may not understand what was going on, but Shawn did, and he was determined to help her at all costs. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a connection with this little girl, that was unlike any he had felt since he got his powers.

Despite the fact that Shawn was flying along the highway at speeds that were not safe, he knew that he was at no risk to get hurt. Able to feel what the people in the cars around him were going to do, before they did it, put Shawn at a huge advantage. If he kept this up, he would make the trip to the cabin, in less than two hours. If that was going to be the case, then he hoped that the police would start out soon and also shave off sometime. John Glendale was unstable and would probably do everything in his power, to keep Cammy. Shawn didn't want to have to deal with him alone.

Once Shawn reached the mountains, and had gone up a ways, he turned off onto one of the less traveled roads and, slowing down, started up it. Cammy hadn't been blindfolded when her uncle brought her up here, and she had been awake and alert. And although she wouldn't have been able to tell anyone how to get up to the cabin, Shawn was somehow able to interpret the images that filled his mind.

The further up the mountain that he got, the harder it was for Shawn to control his bike. The trail was just a little too steep and a little too rocky. After pushing the bike up, just a bit further, Shawn finally stopped. He turned the bike off and, taking his helmet off and slipping the keys into his pocket, he wheeled it off the trail, and behind some trees, so that it was just out of view from the road. Then he went back to the road and started walking.

Shawn hadn't been walking for maybe ten minutes, when he heard the distinct rumble of an old pickup truck. Moving quickly, he dove for cover behind some bushes, just off to the side of the road, right before the rusty red truck turned a corner and came into view. Shawn didn't have to look out from the cover of the foliage, and at the driver of the truck, to know that it was John Glendale. And before he could panic too much, that he was late, Shawn was able to feel that Cammy was not with him. Not yet. He was probably off to buy some supplies for the long trip ahead. Once the sound of the truck had died away and the atmosphere no longer reeked of psychopath, Shawn jumped back up onto the trail and sprinted up it. Cammy was just around the corner, he knew it.

The cabin was old. If Shawn didn't know any better, he would have thought that no one had been in it, for nearly ten years. But he did know different. He knew that Cammy was in it. He could feel her so strongly in fact, that he took the ribbon off and slipped it into his pocket.

Slowly, Shawn crept up to the house. He knew that no one else was in the house, but old habits die hard, and he was having a hard time shaking the feeling that he was in huge danger.

Shawn didn't bother to go to the front door and look through the house, instead, he went around to the back, and found the old trapdoor that led down to the old cellar. The wooden door, itself, was molded and rotting, it looked like it would break if Shawn so much as stood on it, unfortunately it was wrapped with a heavy chain and a new lock. If Shawn stood on the door, it would break, and he'd be caught in a metal web.

It looked like he'd have to get to Cammy the other way.

Hurrying back to the front of the house, Shawn tried the front door. It was locked.

"Of course," Shawn half-sighed, half-growled.

He wasn't going to let a locked door stop him though, moving around to the back of the cabin, Shawn found a window and broke it. It was no time for decorum, and it's not like anyone actually lived in the cabin anymore. Careful not cut himself, Shawn slipped into the house with easy. Then, still keeping quiet, he went through the kitchen and into the living room, where he felt Cammy's presence the most. Knowing that she wasn't in the living room, but in the cellar, Shawn quickly found the door that led down to it. Of course it was also locked.

Shawn quickly searched the room, only to find that he couldn't find the keys. The uncle must have taken them. Thinking, Shawn tried to remember if he had seen anything that he could use to pick the lock. He couldn't, but in the process he remembered that he did have his wallet with him, and he could use one of his cards to jimmy the lock.

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Shawn opened it, and looked inside at the various cards he had. He ended up grabbing his library card. He had gotten it a few years prior, because the librarian had been hot, and he had hoped that he could use it to check out books that would impress her, and get her to go out with him. All he had ended up getting though, was a black-eye from her angry husband (how was he supposed to have known, she wasn't wearing her ring) and over fifty dollars in overdue fines.

With practiced ease, Shawn jimmied the lock and had the door open in less than a minute. Looking down into the room, Shawn found that he couldn't even see to the bottom of the staircase. Before he went down, he checked the wall outside, and just inside the room, for a light switch. Nothing.

Opening the door a bit more, so that as much light as possible could get in, Shawn headed down the stairs, cautiously testing each step, before he put his full weight on it. So far the stairs were strong though. It would appear that, despite neglect, he cabin was still in good condition. The outside cellar door, must have been in the condition that it was in, because it was outside, weathering the elements.

The moment that Shawn reached the bottom of the stairs, a light suddenly flicked on, illuminating the room.

A/N: Dun, dun, dun. Hey, cyber pineapple to all those who review. ;D


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So, here's the next chapter. Only one more chapter and an epilogue left.**

That was probably the closest that Shawn had ever come to having a heart attack. If it wasn't for his psychic powers telling him that Cammy was the only other person in the room, he probably would have had one.

"You're not my uncle," a small voice said softly.

Quickly turning to the source of the voice, Shawn saw, standing against the wall adjacent to the staircase, a young girl. Her hair was stringy and caked with dirt and dust, her face and hands dirty, and her black dress crumpled, as if she had slept in it. She probably had.

Before Shawn could say anything to Cammy, her hand, which had been resting on the wall, quickly came down and the room was plunged in darkness.

Aw, so that's where the light switch was.

"Cammy," Shawn called into the darkness, directing his voice in the direction that he heard her small footsteps go, "It's all right. I've come to help you."

Moving along the wall, Shawn found the light switch with relative ease, and turned the lights back on. Looking around the room, Shawn couldn't see Cammy. Luckily, he didn't have to. Instead, he reached into his pocket, and grabbed the ribbon.

"It's going to be okay," Shawn soothed, as he carefully made his way to the back of the room. "I'm not going to hurt you." Slowly, he pushed aside the old cardboard boxes, that Cammy was hiding behind. "My name is Shawn, I'm with the police." Shawn crouched down, so that he was more to Cammy's eyelevel. Not that she could tell; she was sitting in a ball on the ground, with her head in her arms and she was crying.

"Look," Shawn said, pulling the pink ribbon out of his pocket, "this is your ribbon, isn't it?" The poor girl was terrified of strangers, and Shawn didn't blame her.

Wearily, Cammy lifted her head slightly, only enough to see the ribbon. Upon seeing it, here eyes brightened, and she lifted her head up all of the way.

"Here, let me," Shawn said, gently grabbing Cammy's arm and pulling it out. Then careful not to scare or hurt her, he tied the ribbon around her wrist. "There," Shawn said, when he was done.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Cammy, for the first time since Shawn got there, looked straight into his eyes. When she did, her eyes widened a fraction, and she looked at him in awe.

"You were in my dreams," Cammy said.

The atmosphere shifted.

"Crap," Shawn shouted, jumping to his feet and startling Cammy.

The uncle was back. Shawn had been so focused on Cammy, he had missed the his approach. Even if Shawn were to grab Cammy and run out of the cellar with her right now, they would reach the living room, just in time to have the uncle open the door and catch them.

"Cammy," Shawn said, turning to the petrified girl, "don't let your uncle know I'm still in here. We might still have a chance if he doesn't know."

The small girl nodded mutely and slowly stood up. Shawn could feel that, despite her fear, Cammy was ready to fight back. She had spirit. He had to give her that.

Shawn started to run up the stairs, hoping that he could at least close the door before the uncle got inside. He was halfway up the creaking staircase, when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Cursing under his breath, Shawn quickly turned around and flew back down into the room. Then, after a second of frantically looking around Shawn hid under the hollow of the staircase and waited.

Only moments after the front door shut, footsteps overhead could be heard. Suddenly there was a loud crashing noise, as if the uncle dropped a bag of groceries. Then running could be heard, before it stopped and a large silhouette blocked the light coming from the doorway.

"Bridgy," John Glendale shouted frantically down into the room, "Bridgett, are you still there?"

Cammy sniffled from the corner that she was standing in, drawing her uncle's attention to her.

"Bridgy," John said, relief flooding through his voice, "you're still here." He started down the stairs. "Bridgy," he said, his tone growing stern. It made Shawn sick. "Why was the door open? Did you open it? You know very well that you shouldn't."

Shawn had seen photos of this guy. Of John. He was…a large man, to say the least. He had wrestled in highschool and a bit in college, and even though he hadn't done anything like that for five years now, Shawn would bet that he still remembered a thing or two. This was definitely not someone that Shawn would want to go hand to hand with, which left surprise as his only weapon. It was only because of this knowledge, that Shawn did what he did. Just as John reached a step that was level to Shawn's head, Shawn reached through the wooden railing and grabbed his ankle.

Crying out, as he started to fall forward, John tried to catch himself, only to have Shawn push his leg out from under him.

"Cammy close your eyes," Shawn yelled, as the large man tumbled down the stairs.

Doing what she was told, Cammy shut her eyes, just in time to miss her uncle come to a sudden stop at the bottom of the staircase.

"Keep 'em closed," Shawn commanded, more gently than his first command, as he rushed over to Cammy and picked her up. Holding the small girl close to him, Shawn hurried out of the cellar. He knew that the fall hadn't killed the uncle and that he would be waking up soon, and he would be pissed.

Running quicker than what he would have thought he could, considering that he had forty extra pounds of weight in his arms, Shawn reached the front door in record time, only to have his arm nearly torn out of its socket when it wouldn't open.

What kind of sick person would lock the door on their way in?

"No problem," Shawn said, more to himself than to Cammy, whose head was buried deep in his shoulder, "I have another way out."

Running back through the living room, and into the kitchen, Shawn reached the broken window. Quickly he put Cammy down and took his jacket off. Then he laid it over the open windowsill.

"Okay, be careful now," Shawn said, lifting Cammy up to the window and helping her slide through, "don't cut yourself."

Once Cammy was out, Shawn followed, grabbing his jacket off of the sill and shaking the glass out of it as he went.

"Here," he said, wrapping the jacket around the young girl, "don't want you to get cold."

When Shawn was satisfied that the jacket wouldn't fall off, he picked Cammy back up and started running down the trail. He had to be careful though, more than once he slipped and almost fell. They had almost reached the place where Shawn had stashed his bike, when the relatively still afternoon air was broken by an almost feral roar, coming from up the trail.

Uh oh, the uncle was awake.

Picking up his speed, Shawn finally reached his bike. Moving as fast as he could, Shawn put Cammy down and started to wheel it out from behind the trees, so that it was back on the road.

"Okay," Shawn said, grabbing his helmet off of the bike and putting it on Cammy, "this is for you," he quickly adjusted the straps so that the overly large helmet would fit on her Cammy's small head. "Really should have brought two," Shawn said, when he was done. "Oh well, come on," picking Cammy up, Shawn sat on the bike, placing the small girl in front of him, so that she was facing him. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled the bike keys out and slipped them into ignition. Just as his bike roared to life, so did another vehicle.

Crap.

"Hold on," Shawn commanded, right before he took off down the trail.

As the bike lurched forward, Cammy wrapped her small arms around Shawn's chest. Her arms weren't even long enough for her hands to hook together at his back, Shawn couldn't help but notice.

Shawn had hoped that with the small head start that he and Cammy had gotten, that they would be able to stay ahead of the uncle. Unfortunately, the uncles truck was made for this type of terrain and Shawn's bike wasn't. Before long, John had caught up to the two, and was right behind them.

"Give her back," John shouted through his open window, as he drew level to Shawn, nearly forcing the psychic off of the road.

Shawn didn't bother to answer the man. Anything that he said would just enrage him more.

It was a split second decision. The man probably had never intended to use it, when he put it in his glove compartment. But all that Shawn knew, was that he was aware of the gun, only seconds before it was fired. Hopefully, that would be enough. As the whole forest seemed to explode with the sound of the gun being fired, so did Shawn's shoulder, with pain, as the bullet ripped passed his arm, taking a bit of clothing and skin with it. Gritting his teeth together, he was able to bite back his cry of pain.

Not really sure where his chances would be better, and already swerving off of the road anyway, Shawn tightening his grip on his bike and drove straight into the forest. Weaving through the trees, though, was not as easy as Shawn had anticipated, and he was having a terrible time, keeping his bike under control. The throbbing pain in his arm wasn't helping either. The only good thing was that he, at least for the moment, had lost the uncle.

Continuing his decent down the mountains, and driving further and further from the road and into the heart of the wilderness, Shawn was able to get into a groove and Cammy stopped screaming into his shirt, although she kept her face squished into Shawn's chest.

They were both doing pretty good when, to avoid hitting a tree, Shawn had to maneuver the bike, before he could see where it was going to go. He didn't even think anything of it, until a large tree came into view, right in front of them and, when he tried to turn the bike from it, found that he couldn't. That's when Shawn realized that the bike was in some sort of tight ditch, or rut, that was just deep enough that he couldn't pull his bike out, and he didn't have enough time to put on the brakes and actually have them stop in time.

Making a crack decision, Shawn quickly repositioned his footing on his bike and wrapped one arm tightly around Cammy. Then, using all of his might, he jumped from the bike. As Shawn flew through the air, Cammy in his arms, he wrapped his other arm around her and created a sort of protective cage with his arms, just in time to hit the ground. As they rolled down the slopped terrain, the bike crashed into the tree.

The two didn't seem like they were going to stop, when Shawn's back smashed into the trunk of a tree, his head slamming against a rock next to it. And as hard as he tried, Shawn couldn't stop the world from going fuzzy, and then fading to black.

**A/N: Shawn whumpage. It's the best. **

**Don't forget to review on your way out.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

**A/N: …*blinks*… well…*coughs into hand*…for those of you who noticed and are extremely confused, I did accidentally change Cammy's cousin's name from Rebecca to Bridgett…whoops. I guess that's what I get for waiting several months between each update. **

**Yeah…so I wish that there was a good excuse for waiting so long to update this story like: huge amounts of school work, or my computer stopped working, or even writer's block, but unfortunately none of those things are the case, so please just take this chapter as an apology and enjoy it. The epilogue will follow soon (unless my computer does die, because it really does seem to like to do that).**

Waking up was a slow and painful process. Shawn was regaining consciousness by degrees and each minute was a new experience in pain. Luckily though, the sharp pain that was running throughout his whole body, dulled to an aching thrum, when he was finally awake. Groaning, Shawn opened his eyes and found himself staring down at Cammy's dirty, blonde hair.

Shawn was laying on his side. When he had lost consciousness, Cammy, who miraculously had remained unharmed, had crawled under his right arm and had laid against his chest. Where, she fell asleep.

Shawn would have loved nothing more, than to continue to lay on the ground and not move for the next year, but from the lighting in the forest, the sun was either setting or rising. Which meant that he had been out for a while, and Cammy's uncle had, had ample time to close the distance between them.

Groaning a little, Shawn lifted his arm and rubbed his hand up and down Cammy's shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered, "it's time to wake up."

"I don't wanna," Cammy whined, burying her face into Shawn's shirt.

"Come on Cammy," Shawn said, continuing to rub her arm, "we have to keep moving. We don't want to be stuck here in the dark."

Since the sky was growing darker, Shawn was pretty sure that it wasn't morning.

Apparently, the thought of being in a dark forest was enough to get Cammy moving. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Shawn and sat beside him.

Now it was Shawn's turn to sit up. Cautiously, he started to push himself up, but was panicked when he realized that he couldn't. Before he could show any of his worry though, he realized that he couldn't push himself up, because he had been trying to use the arm that Cammy had been laying on, and it had fallen asleep.

Not even bothering to smother a sigh of relief, Shawn tried sitting up again. He was almost upright, when Cammy came over and helped straighten him out.

"You, are awesome," Shawn told her, giving her a smile, despite his headache and slight bought of dizziness.

Cammy smiled back, and then waited patiently for Shawn to gather his strength.

Once he was ready, with Cammy's help and the support of the large tree trunk that he had slammed into, Shawn was able to stand up. After another minute spent of keeping himself balanced and waiting for the dizziness to pass, Shawn and Cammy were able to start their way back down the mountain.

Progress was slow. Shawn was walking with a slight limp, his ribs ached and he had to stop every, what seemed like five minutes, to lean up against a tree and catch his breath. At this rate they'd never get off the mountain. If there had been any possible way for Shawn to send Cammy on ahead, then he would have. Unfortunately though, her uncle was still out there, so it would not be safe.

During one of the many stops that the two took, Cammy had asked Shawn if he were mad at her. At first, Shawn was confused as to why she had asked him this, but when she elaborated, he understood. She had noticed the crease in his brow, and the downward curve of his lips, and thought that it was because his bike now lay in pieces, further up the mountain and she blamed herself for that.

Shawn told her that he wasn't mad at her and that he didn't blame her for anything. Then instead of telling her that he was a little confused and in quite a bit of pain (why risk worrying her or making her blame herself even further?) he told her that he was just tired, and was thinking a little too hard.

Yeah right. If only that was it. Shawn was really concerned that he couldn't sense anyone. By now the mountain should have been crawling with cops, but he couldn't sense anyone. He had been counting on the atmospheric changes of others, to lead him and Cammy back to the trail, so that they at least knew where they were. Now, however, it appeared that they were on their own.

"Give me Bridgette back."

Uh-oh.

Shawn barely had time to register the uncle's sudden presence, when the deranged man swung a long thick branch at Shawn, and it connected with his head with a loud crack.

GusGusGusGusGusGusGusGusGusGusGus

Where in the world could Shawn be? When Gus had gotten off the phone with his best friend, he had sped over to the police station and relayed all that Shawn had told him. All, that is, except where the cabin was. Not caring about how much trouble he might get into, Gus had used that as leverage to go with the police. He would ride with Lassiter and Juliet and tell them where to go, as they led the rest of the officers. Since Shawn had been stupid and had ran off on his own, no one had given too much of an argument.

By now though, Gus was a nervous wreck and almost wished that he hadn't come. He wasn't cut out for this kind of stress. He had spent hours driving up and down the different mountain trails with McNabb, in hopes of seeing Shawn, but they couldn't find hide nor hair of him. Or the uncle. Which was even worse, once they found evidence of the uncle and Cammy, in the cabin. If it wasn't for the uncle's abandoned truck, halfway down the mountain, they would have thought that they were too late, and that the uncle had already taken off with Cammy.

Gus was currently standing off to the side of the narrow mountain road, next to Lassiter and Juliet, as they waited for McNabb to turn his car around so that everyone could leave. It was getting dark, and they wouldn't be able to form a search party until morning. This sat well with no one.

"What was Spencer thinking?" Lassiter growled through clenched teeth. He was standing a bit further away from Gus and Juliet, his body tense and arms folded tightly across his chest.

No one answered Lassiter's question, not that he expected them too. What good would that answer do now anyways? Why did Spencer always have to go off and do the stupid thing? What good was his big heart, if it got him killed?

Gus looked over at Lassiter from the corner of his eyes. He could hear the older man's teeth grinding together, and if he ground any harder, his teeth were going to crack.

"We'll get search and rescue out here first thing in the morning. It'll be okay," Juliet said, trying to assuage her own worries, more than anyone else's. Not even trying to be discreet anymore, she looked down at her cell phone again, wishing that bars would magically appear.

"Well there's nothing more we can do here toni—" Lassiter abruptly stopped talking as a scream cut through the evening air.

Lassiter and Juliet's eyes met for a second, before they ran off the road and towards the sound of the screams. It was close. Extremely close.

Gus tried to follow Lassiter and Juliet, but another officer stopped him, as two other's ran after the detectives.

Lassiter and Juliet ran, throwing branches aside and trampling any foliage that came in their way. Just as the screams seemed unable to grow any closer, they burst through some tall bushes and found themselves staring at a scene that would live in their nightmares for the rest of their lives.

Kneeling on the ground, not very far from the two detectives, was Cammy. Tears were streaming down her face, along with a few trickles of blood, that fell from her nose. She was still screaming as she watched her uncle bring the large branch down on Shawn's motionless body, once again. He hadn't moved since the first blow from the uncle, who looked completely deranged, with his fly-away hair that was full of leaves and twigs.

Not even hesitating, Lassiter drew his gun, cocked it, and commanded the uncle to freeze. He was a drop of sanity away from putting a bullet through the uncle himself.

Surprised by the sudden appearance of the officers, John stopped mid-swing and stared dumbly at Lassiter.

Juliet and the other officers, by now, had also pulled out their guns and had them trained on the kidnapper. Juliet's eyes flicked from the man, down to Shawn, and then back. She couldn't see Shawn's face, but she could see the bruises forming on the bare arms of her favorite psychic. Her eyes hardened. All she needed was one halfway decent excuse and she could put that disgusting creature out of it's misery.

"You're under arrest," Lassiter said, his voice cool as steel, "put the branch down."

For a moment, it almost appeared as if the man hadn't heard him, but then John Glendale, for the first time since his little girl died, came to his senses and, stilling holding onto the branch, dropped down to his knees and wept.

**A/N: So all we have is an epilogue (which has already been typed up so there's no need to worry) left, and then this story's done. Please don't forget to review, they really do make you want to update sooner…and yes, maybe that was a threat. ;D**


	20. epilogue

**Epilogue **

**A/N: Yay! I'm finished. I have officially finished my first multi-chapter fanfic. I'm so happy. Also, I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it really does mean a lot.**

Visiting hours were almost up, and just about everyone had been in to see Shawn. He'd been in the hospital for a little over a week (fully conscious only for the past two days) and the doctors had finally deemed him out of the red zone. His ankle was sprained, a few ribs were cracked, and he was still a little concussed, but he was going to be fine. Unfortunately, for Shawn, the doctors were determined to keep him in the hospital for at least two more weeks. It was as if they didn't trust him to stay off of his feet if they let him loose.

Stretching a little, Shawn laid back, and stared at the TV, he was currently watching his favorite cartoon sponge. It'd been a full day, and he was looking forward to a little rest. It was the first day that he had been given a lower dose of pain medication, so he had actually been able to interact with his visitors.

Chief Vick had been the first to visit him, early that morning. She had come baring news of the previous night's trial. It was official; John Glendale was crazy. In lieu of prison time, Glendale was going to be committed, and once given a clean bill of mental health he had two hundred hours of community service to pay off. Chief Vick had been a little worried of how Shawn would feel about that sentencing, after all, the man had attacked him brutally. But in all truthfulness, Shawn didn't care, he was just glad that that chapter of his life was over.

Shortly after Chief Vick left, Juliet came. She was also worried about how Shawn was going to take the ruling, and Shawn had been able to use that to his advantage, to secure a date (Juliet didn't call it that, but Shawn knew better) once he was out of the hospital.

To Shawn's surprise, around lunch time, Lassiter came to see him. He said that he was just checking up, so that Juliet would stop bothering him about it, but Shawn knew better. So, to make the visit less awkward, he teased Lassiter.

"_You like me," Shawn said, smiling up at the sour-faced detective._

"_You're still concussed, aren't you?" _

"_Don't play dumb. I'm psychic, I know these things."_

"_Goodbye, Spencer." There was only so much of Shawn that Lassiter could take._

"_If you didn't like me," Shawn said, calling out to Lassiter as he left, "then you would have told the chief that I admitted to not really being a psychic."_

_Lassiter stopped, halfway out the door, and slowly turned to look at Shawn._

"_Was that a confession?" he asked._

"_Please," Shawn snorted, "it's like you don't know me at all."_

_Lassiter continued to look at Shawn, before shaking his head and leaving. It's not like the Chief would have held Spencer accountable for anything that he had said in his previous state of mind anyway. _

Shawn smiled. Lassiter would probably never admit it, but Shawn knew that he cared. And that's all that really mattered.

Later in the afternoon, Shawn found himself in company with Cammy. Now that the trials were over, her parents were taking her on a vacation to take her mind off of everything that had happened.

Cammy had been extremely excited to see Shawn again, and had chattered on to him about this and that for about a half hour. At that point, the parents had stepped in and told her that they had to go, if they were going to catch their flight. Before they left though, Cammy pulled a long, familiar, pink ribbon from her pocket and gave it to Shawn. "So you don't forget me," she had said sternly.

"Thank you," Shawn had replied, taking the ribbon and then pulling Cammy into a hug. Even if he never saw or even talked about Cammy again, he wouldn't have been able to forget her.

As Cammy and her parents left, Shawn's dad had slipped in.

Henry couldn't stay for very long, but he had wanted to check in with Shawn, and Shawn's doctors. Which led to the questions of why Shawn's doctors were keeping him for so long and was Shawn planning on crashing at his place for the first few nights after his release?

The answers to the questions were a dramatic, "I don't know, it's still all so fuzzy," and a simple "Sure." Stupid medicine was affecting Shawn's wits. To make up for it Shawn hinted to his father that he knew that his dad did remember the dream in which he acted like a "soft and fuzzy cinnamon bear."

To that statement, Henry quickly denied any of knowledge of what Shawn was talking about, and stalked off muttering under his breath.

So now here Shawn was, alone, visiting hours almost up and Gus MIA.

A soft knock on the door, drew Shawn away from his musings, and he looked away from the television, over to the new visitor.

"And here I was thinking that you had been consumed by a rabid chinchilla."

"You're still on morphine, aren't you?" Gus replied evenly, stepping into the room.

"I'm on something," Shawn allotted, then he caught sight of what was in his best friend's hand.

Gus followed Shawn's eyes and held the cup out.

"Pineapple?" Shawn asked, taking the smoothie.

"You know it," Gus said, taking a sip from his own cup.

Shawn slurped up some of the liquid heaven through a straw and sighed contentedly. This was his first smoothie since he had come back from going crazy. Now all he needed was to get his bike out from storage and trash his apartment, and everything would be back to normal.

"What are you watching," Gus asked, sitting down in a chair next to Shawn's bed.

"Sponge Bob," Shawn replied, taking another drink. "I'm so jealous of him."

"Why?" Gus asked. Normally, he would only be half-interested in what his friend had to say, but right now, after coming so close to losing him, Gus wanted to know everything that his friend thought, and why.

"Dude," he said pointedly, "'who lives in a pineapple under the sea'?"

"Got it."

For a while, the two men sat in a companionable silence. But as the minutes ticked by, and the time for Gus to leave grew closer, he got a feeling that Shawn was wanting to tell him something. Several times the fake psychic…wait, that wasn't correct anymore, was it? Several times the _psychic_ opened his mouth, as if he were about to speak, but then he would just close it and drink more of his smoothie.

"Hey, what's this?" Gus asked, catching sight of the pink ribbon that sat on the table by the bed.

"That's Cammy's," Shawn said, watching as his friend picked the ribbon up to examine it. "She came by earlier and gave it to me."

"Yeah?" Gus asked, setting the ribbon back down. "And how's she doing?"

"Fine," Shawn looked down at his hands. "Gus…there's something that I need to tell you."

"Yeah, what is it?"

Shawn continued to look at his hands, and took a deep breath.

"Shawn…?" Gus asked, a little worried about his friend's behavior.

"I don't see ghosts anymore."

"…"

"…"

"Are you sure?" Gus finally asked.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure. I have been in a hospital for a week and people do die in hospitals. Nothing," he shook his head.

"You've only actually been awake for two—three days Shawn, is that really enough time to make an accurate assessment?"

"Gus," Shawn said, finally making eye contact with his friend, "I don't feel their pull on me anymore. I don't know what you're feeling, beyond what you obviously display on your face, and my dad was in here earlier and I couldn't read his mind. Thank goodness," he added under his breath. "Besides, I took a spin around the hospital yesterday, just to test my theory, and I came up with no more than I used to, before all of this 'real' psychic stuff happened."

"You got out of bed?" Gus snapped.

"Yes… and in retrospect that's probably why the doctors are keeping me here the extra week, but that's beside the point."

"I can't believe you," Gus muttered, turning away from his friend.

Shawn allowed Gus the moment of anger, because even though he couldn't feel what the man was feeling, he still remembered all to well what it was like when he could.

"How do you feel about this?" Gus asked, turning back to his friend, anger replaced by concern for his friend.

For some reason, the question caught Shawn off guard. The powers had caused him a lot of trouble, but at the same time, he truly had enjoyed some of them. They had filled every bit of space up in and outside of him…suffocating him, and yet now, the air felt cold and empty without it.

"I haven't decided yet," he admitted, casting a quick glance at Gus's face to assess his reaction.

Gus simply nodded in understanding. It would take a while for Shawn to readjust.

"Sorry to interrupt," a nurse said, sticking his head into the room, "but visiting hours are up, and this man, needs to get some rest."

"Okay," Gus said, giving the man a nod and then standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, looking at Shawn, "I got most of my route done today, so my schedule's pretty much clear."

"Cool. You can bring Parcheesi and we'll make a day of it."

"Do you even know what Parcheesi is?"

"…A type of cheddar?"

"Goodnight Shawn."

Once at the doorway, Gus paused and turned back to Shawn, who was already laying back with his eyes closed and an empty smoothie cup in one hand. He really looked like he needed some rest, but Gus needed to ask one more time, "Are you sure that you're powers are gone?"

Shawn opened his eyes and looked at his best friend. "Yep," he said, "all gone."

With a nod, and one more goodnight, Gus left.

Sighing, Shawn leaned over, very carefully, and placed his empty cup on the night-table. As he started to pull his hand back, his fingers brushed across the silky pink ribbon. He looked back to the empty doorway, making sure that no one was there, and picked the ribbon up, gingerly between his pointer-finger and thumb. Sitting back, he ignored his aching sides and held the ribbon out, tightly, in both of his hands. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep breathes, he concentrated. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

Well, not _all_ gone.

End.

**A/N: Muahahahaha. And you thought that Shawn was going to go completely back to normal. Nope, he can still sense people through their clothing or personal items. I know that in most fics that the characters end up completely back to normal by the end, but that was never really an option for me. For those of you who don't understand how I can logically let Shawn keep even a small part of his previous powers, is that when he gained them at the beginning of the story he had hit his head, **_**and**_** had been electrocuted. In the last scene, he had only hit his head. So, naturally, most of his powers could go…but not all of them, and I wanted him to be able to keep the most harmless of the powers (which was also the one that he had enjoyed the most.)**

**I'm sorry if you were disappointed in the ending, but I'm not sorry for how I ended it. ;) Don't forget to please review. **

**As another side note: I'm not planning on a sequel, but if any of you have any ideas for one I'd love to hear it. Not that any of you would necessarily want a sequel, but I thought that I'd just put that out there. Review!**


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